A Father's Ghost

"Kanpai!"

The shout was punctuated by the sharp clink of glasses. To celebrate his completion of the grueling YGSDF Ranger course, my father had brought me to a local restaurant with his friends.

I was only in elementary school at the time. Half a world away, one of the decade's greatest conflicts had just erupted across the Arid Expanse.

Seated beside my dad, I tried to listen as he and his buddies recounted the horrors of their training, but my attention was captivated by a newspaper. The headlines were all variations on a theme: "A Tyrant's Regime Toppled" or "Allied Coalition Launches Operation Desert Liberation."

One of the new Rangers mused aloud, "How many troops do you think the YDF will deploy?"

"They could send a battalion and a squadron of gunships, at the very least," another suggested.

My father, his arms crossed over his chest, remained silent, his expression cold and detached from the discussion.

At a nearby table, a man holding a cigar remarked, "Looks like the Allied Coalition gave the enemy a thorough thrashing. I wonder if the YDF will even take up arms."

His companion, dressed in a matching business suit, scoffed. "I doubt it. The YDF isn't a real military, after all."

"Oh? Then what is it?"

"Just a pack of tax leeches," the man snickered. The two of them erupted in coarse laughter.

One of the Rangers, his jaw tight with anger, started to rise from his seat, but Tanaka-san, who was still young and lacked his signature mustache, laid a restraining hand on his arm. "We just got our Ranger Badges today," he cautioned in a low voice. "This isn't the time to pick a fight with a couple of drunks."

"But Tanaka..."

"Kenji is right," Otou-san finally spoke, his voice firm. "Sit down."

The Ranger reluctantly nodded and settled back into his chair. "Yes, Shinozaki-san. I understand."

I tugged on the sleeve of my father's leather jacket, looking up at him. "Otou-san?"

"What is it, Haru?" His calm, black eyes met mine.

"Why did those men say the YDF isn't a military? They're lying, aren't they?" I asked with a child's innocence.

He gazed into the distance for a moment, lost in thought. "No, they aren't right," he stated. "The YDF is the military of Yamato. But unlike the old Imperial Army, the YDF is a shield for our people, not a spear. We are forbidden from fighting in foreign wars or possessing offensive weapons, but we are a powerful force tasked with defending this nation and its people, no matter the cost."

"I remember learning about the Imperial Army in history class," I said, my curiosity piqued. "Why was it disbanded?"

"The Imperial Army was dissolved permanently. If the YDF hadn't been formed in its place, the world might have been plunged into another great war. More women would have lost their husbands, and more children would have lost their fathers. That is why so many people oppose the idea of another Imperial Army occupying another country."

"So, the Imperial Army were the bad guys in World War II, right?"

My father's composed expression flickered, replaced by a deep, searching look, as if he were trying to recall a distant memory. "Perhaps. And perhaps not."

"What do you mean, Otou-san?" I tilted my head.

He sighed. "The reality is that people will always find an excuse to kill and destroy to satisfy their own greed and desires. In a war, there are only the living and the dead. As a soldier, it's kill or be killed. Every day, I question if what I am doing is right. That's why," he clarified, "I don't believe we can be judged as good or evil. But we must never forget that war brings only suffering and death. That is what the YDF exists to prevent."

"Then who is the real enemy, Otou-san?" I asked again, my tone serious.

He chuckled, patting my head gently. "You're still in elementary school, yet you talk like a politician in the Diet." He paused, his gaze drifting away again. Placing his hand back on my head, he smiled softly. "I don't know the answer myself. I hope that one day, you will find it for me."

Suddenly, a brilliant white flash flooded my vision.

"OTOU-SAN!" I yelled, jolting awake and gasping for breath. I was in the guest chamber of Mayor Thorne's mansion. I wiped the tears from my face with my forearm. "Otou-san," I whispered, gazing out the window at the pre-dawn sky, "I wonder if you're watching me from up there."

I glanced at my timepiece. "Zero-six-thirty," I mumbled. Half past six. I rolled out of bed, stretched, and ran through a quick workout of push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups.

Afterward, I stepped into the shower, letting the cool water cascade over me as I tried to clear my head. I couldn't afford to let my emotions compromise the mission. But the dream lingered, a persistent echo. It felt as if my father was trying to tell me something. I turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and dried myself. Otou-san, I still don't have the answer. But for some reason, I feel like I'll find it here.

I gathered my gear and departed the mansion. Brielle was already waiting by the gate. I walked toward her, my hands stuffed in my pockets.

"Hey, Arc! Sleep well?" she asked with her usual bright smile.

For the first time since we had met, I walked past her without a word, my gaze fixed on the ground. She tapped my shoulder, stopping me. "Arc, are you okay?" she asked, her tone laced with concern. "You look like you have something on your mind."

My eyes met hers for a fleeting second before I looked away. "Just a nightmare," I replied.

"Ah, I see," she said, her smile returning. "Don't tell me you're afraid of ghosts?"

I offered only a slight nod, my expression flat. We had only known each other for a month; her shoulders were not meant to carry my burdens.

"Don't worry, Arc," she said warmly. "Everyone has their weaknesses." I managed a small smile in return.

Just then, two town guards in simple, polished armor approached and saluted. "Milady, Milord," one of them said. "We are the town guards assigned as your escort. We are at your service."

Brielle nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

We set off on foot toward the town, which was close enough not to require horses. An uneasy silence fell between Brielle and me, both of us conscious of the guards' presence. Still, I decided to break it.

"Brielle," I began.

"Hm?"

"I was just wondering about the rank structure in your military." Soldiers often called her Captain, and I wondered if her rank was equivalent to Cutter's.

"Why do you ask?"

"I was just curious if you hold the same rank as Cutter," I answered.

"What about you, Arc? What's your rank?"

"I'm an O-1, a Second Lieutenant. It's the first commissioned officer rank, two grades below Captain."

"So you realize my rank is higher than yours, then?" she said with a playful smirk.

"I don't think so," I retorted. "We're in different chains of command, so you can't pull rank on me."