## Story 1 ![8-1.png](/uploads/8_1_ea9cf07c40.png) These are the soldiers who battle the Flowers that threaten humanity. They are treated
no better than prisoners, their every action and thought regulated and overseen as they are
thrown without mercy into the maw of an endless war.

One day, a pair of voices echo out from their base. They belong to a young recruit and
his instructor. The recruit has made countless appeals to fight on the frontlines, but the instructor
has refused him every step of the way. Their constant back-and-forth has continued without
pause from the moment they met.

"I will kill every last Flower, even if it means my life," cries the recruit.
The boy burns with his desire to fight. He seeks revenge against the Flowers—the killers of
his one true love. But rather than respond with anger of her own, the instructor gently urges
him to reconsider.

"You need to focus on survival; you only get to die once."
But such kindness reminds him of his late love, and only serves to fan the fires of vengeance
in his heart. Once she sees what I'm capable of, she'll understand. The recruit has devoted
himself to training with that one thought in mind. And though it never gained much traction
with his instructor, he decides to make her a proposal: "If I get top marks in our next virtual
drill, you have to let me go on a mission." Before she can respond, he turns on his heel and
exits the barracks. He needs to fight. He needs to avenge his love. His entire will is bent upon it. ## Story 2 ![8-2.png](/uploads/8_2_bb2a4d3db5.png) The recruit's participation in battle hinges on his performance in a virtual drill. When
it is finished, he has the highest score by far. The other soldiers rush to his side, erupting with
joy and claiming he holds the key to defeating their enemy. As they celebrate, the recruit turns
to his instructor and regards her coldly.

"You have to let me fight now. You don't have a choice."
As she readies herself to turn him down once more, the base commander suddenly appears.

"These are excellent results," says the commander.
"I look forward to seeing all of you perform in the next mission."

The soldiers raise a hearty cheer at his praise...
Though the officer's razor smile hints at something deeper. Amidst the raucous cheering, the
recruit hears his instructor whisper a single sentence: "I am unable to stop them yet again..."
But he does not notice the meaning buried in her words. ## Story 3 ![8-3.png](/uploads/8_3_cd778309bb.png) Since receiving permission to fight, the recruit has spent his every waking hour in intense
training. The thought of his dead love burns in his heart as he imagines giving the Flowers the
justice they so richly deserve.

Finally, the day of the mission arrives. The squad's morale is higher than ever. Inspired
by their fellow recruit's fighting spirit, they have all been training especially hard. As they
prepare to set out, the recruit's instructor meets his gaze somberly.

"I know what you are capable of. Just...please don't be reckless. Please."
The recruit responds with a chuckle, as if her worry is the silliest thing imaginable.

"Don't worry. I've got this."
When the battle with the Flowers is over, he knows their fruitless quarrels can finally end.
She will have no choice but to acknowledge his ability once she sees his skills in battle. He
grips his sword tighter. His long-awaited campaign of revenge is now mere moments away... ## Story 4 ![8-4.png](/uploads/8_4_986fa1565f.png) The soldiers' first battle against the Flowers has begun. This recruit breaks the dam on the
ocean of vengefulness in his heart, hacking through countless numbers of Flowers with his blade.

When the intense battle finally comes to an end, an uneasy silence settles over the ruined
city. Only one soul still draws breath. It is the instructor. She sits silently on the ground, cradling
the corpse of the recruit who had fought so valiantly.

The commanding officer arrives in a collection vehicle and scowls.
"Another failure," he mutters. Then another figure steps out from behind the officer. The eyes
are a familiar, intense hue—one she has witnessed during countless arguments. They are
identical to those of the corpse she now cradles in her arms. As the new arrival stares out at
the grim battlefield, his face contorts into a sneer.

"I will kill every last Flower, even if it means my life," cries the recruit.
How many times has it been now? As she considers what a pointless thought that is, she quietly
replies to the new recruit: "You need to focus on survival; you only get to die once."
Yet her kind words are tinged by an endless echo of despair.

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