Raiden first met the Reaper in a unit he'd been assigned to half a year after he'd enlisted. It was the day after the last of the friends with whom he'd enlisted had died.
Before enlisting, Raiden was given refuge in the eighty-five Sectors, in a boarding school run by an old woman. Her only students were kids who lived in the neighborhood, and so the dorms were used to hide and shelter as many Eighty-Six children as possible. After the fifth year, someone had apparently reported them to the authorities, and soldiers arrived to escort them away. The old woman hounded them relentlessly, beseeching their consciences and senses of justice time and time again, but her pleas were answered only by sneers and derision.
Without a hint of guilt in their expressions, the soldiers herded the children onto a truck used for transporting livestock, and Raiden's last memory of the old woman was how she had chased after the truck, shouting at the soldiers.
He had never heard her swear before. That respectable, strict old lady who always got frighteningly angry whenever Raiden and the others jokingly cursed screamed at the retreating truck with her face twisted in rage as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I hope you burn in hell, you filthy bastards!"
He could remember the image of her crouching down on the road and the sound of her heartrending wails and weeping as clearly now as if hearing them then.
The captain who bore the name of the Reaper was more careless and whimsical than anyone Raiden had ever known. He would never go on patrols and instead went loitering in ruins where the Legion could very well be hiding. He would issue orders to deploy when the radar gave no indication of an enemy advance. And while his predictions were so spot-on it was creepy, Raiden could only see his carelessness as the actions of someone suicidal.
He couldn't suppress his anger. The friends who'd enlisted with him fought so hard, but all they got in return for their courage and efforts was death. The old woman had protected Raiden and the other children, even though she could well have been shot for her actions. And this idiot just insisted on acting this way, as if he didn't care if they all died—as if he didn't care if he himself died.
Raiden finally lost his patience and hit him half a year after joining the squadron. It happened when they were arguing over the patrols Shin kept canceling. Even though Raiden should've taken it easy on him, considering how different they were in terms of physique, he'd struck Shin, who was still relatively small at the time, with enough force to knock him back. He'd shouted at Shin, who'd been sprawled on the ground, to stop fucking with them, but those red eyes had remained as calm and unwavering as ever.
"It's my fault for not explaining, but still."
Shin spat out the blood in his mouth as he rose to his feet. He seemed to have taken surprisingly little damage, and his movements were without a hint of sluggishness or hesitance.
"Speaking from experience, no one believes me even when I tell them, so I stopped trying to explain it. I'm tired of wasting my time.
"Huh? What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I'll tell you eventually… Also—"
Shin punched Raiden right in the face. That blow, which carried all the power his small body could muster, was incredibly painful. It was a swing that made perfect use of his weight, his momentum, and the transmission of force in his fist and left Raiden lying helplessly on the floor with his head spinning.
"I never said you could punch me. I don't know how to hold back, but if that doesn't bother you, feel free to come at me anytime."
Filled with even more anger hearing this taunt, Raiden lunged at him again. Put bluntly, Raiden lost that terribly one-sided fight. Shin, who'd spent a year longer than Raiden on the battlefield, was that much more accustomed to violence and adept at employing it.
Raiden still couldn't stand the prick, but his impression toward Shin changed a bit. When Theo heard the story years later, he sighed in exasperation and said that kind of backstory wouldn't even fly in a kids' comic. But the truth was, Theo was the one who didn't understand. Shin had looked like he was holding in a smile back then, but hell, if only Raiden had known what was going through that nutcase's head.
The day after they fought, Shin said—through cut and bruised lips—that he'd eventually explain everything. And on their next deployment, Raiden could hear the ghosts' wailing. It was then that Raiden finally realized why Shin was so opposed to going on patrols… Why he was so detached in a way a boy his age should never be.
The Spearhead squadron's members were fast asleep after that day's lights out. Raiden was lying on his bunk but hadn't yet drifted off. Hearing quiet footsteps outside, he rose from his bed. Looking through the adjacent door, which had been left open, he found Shin standing in his dark room, basking in the pale-blue moonlight.
"Were you talking to someone before?"
From his vantage in the changing room, Raiden had thought he'd heard Shin talking to someone in the shower. Shin simply turned his gaze in Raiden's direction and nodded. His indifferent, frozen red eyes bespoke a calmness that never seemed to jibe with his age and an apathy that had seemed nearly unshakable.
"It was the major. She Resonated with me for a bit earlier."
"…So she actually synced up with you again. Color me surprised. The girl's got more guts than I gave her credit for."
He was a bit impressed. No other Handler had ever agreed to Resonate with Shin after hearing the voices. His eyes were drawn to Shin's now exposed neck, where a single red scar was etched unevenly across his throat. Raiden already knew the origins of that decapitation-like scar, having heard it from Shin himself, including the fact that he'd gained the ability to hear the ghosts as a consequence of it.
It was a quiet night. At least, it was for Raiden. But for Shin… For his comrade, afflicted with the capacity to hear the ghosts' cries, this was yet another night filled with the wails and lamentations of the dead. No one could maintain his equilibrium which being subjected to this incessant torment. His emotions were constantly being battered and eroded, until eventually, he became the emotionless, detached, unfeeling Reaper that he was.
With his red eyes, the Reaper looked at Raiden. Those eyes, the color of fresh blood, had all but frozen over. His heart was still on the battlefield, always on the battlefield, obsessively seeking its head in the faraway front, longing to regain what it had lost.
"I'm going to sleep. If you have anything to say, we can talk tomorrow."
"…Yeah, sorry."
Even after he'd closed the uneven door after a bit of a struggle and heard Raiden's footsteps in the hallway and the sound of the pipe bed creaking, Shin had remained at the window, basking in the moonlight, his eyes still looking toward the battlefield. If he listened carefully, he could make out the murmuring of the flock of ghosts on the other side of the dark night, their whispers like the stirring of stardust from the heavens above. Their moans and screams, their laments and shrieks.
He made out the sound of mechanical words and concentrated only on that, focusing his consciousness on that distant cry. How long had it been since he'd heard that voice speaking to him as a man? It must have been eight years. And the words it spoke now were the same as back then.
Every night, he heard it, and each time, that memory was resurrected. That voice loomed over him like an ever-present shadow, never allowing him to forget it. The pressure squeezing down on his throat, threatening to crush his neck. Those black eyes hidden behind his glasses, glaring down at him with palpable hatred. The suffocation and suffering—and his brother's voice, cutting into his very ears with its wrath.
It's in your name. Fitting. It's all your fault. All of it—everything is your fault.
That same voice was calling for him in the distance. Always, ever since that day five years ago when he died here, in a forsaken corner of the ruins on the eastern front. Shin placed his hand against the cold glass and whispered, even though he knew his words wouldn't reach anyone.
"I'll come for you soon—Brother."