Alive || 86: Eighty-Six [ vers. ENG ]

charlize

"If you're going to die anyway, you might as well fight to the end and not give up." This is what seemed to be the pride of the Eighty-Six, those who had been rejected and abandoned by their own country. But beyond this bloodshed, this torn flesh and these bruised feelings; what could be found? Was peace of mind really what they would gain after all these years of living on the edge? Or in the end, were they not struggling because this was the only goal they could afford to pursue to forget that deep down they had nothing left. That now, and forever, they had lost everything and that they would never get back anything that had been stolen from them?

These thoughts, as terrible as they were, still filled my mind. I knew deep down that I could never be one of them. Even though we were in the same situation and living in the same hell, the regrets I had accumulated since my first day with them would never go away. And then there was the fact that I was not fighting for the same reasons as them. My will depended on something far more selfish than their pure hopes... and it was nowhere near as unshakeable as their pride.

Since I had been assigned to the Spearhead Squadron, things as simple as laughing and having fun were missing. I just couldn't seem to get along. Every sortie resulted in the death of one of our companions. The battles in this area were much more violent than elsewhere. A squadron of Name Bearers, no matter how brilliant, could never triumph indefinitely without air support.

Death was waiting for me.

I could even feel it coming. Within an hour, a day, a week, or maybe a month; I knew it would come and surprise me the moment I let go.

Hope had left me.

I had no doubt about that. Maybe it was because I had come so much farther than I had imagined, but there was a part of me that had accepted this inevitable end. And if I were to take my last breath today, I think I would be okay with it.

What a liar.

Accepting my death? To die without regret? Waiting patiently for someone to come and finish me off? None of this reflected how I really felt.

I don't want to die.

Not today, not tomorrow.

I want to live.

Even if my reasons are selfish or less deserving than others.

If only I was given a chance then...

Hope had never left me. That rage and hatred that had been born long before I joined that internment camp or the army, would never leave me; all those feelings, negative and positive, made me who I am.

And I wasn't ready to say my last word without struggling to the end.