[Laurentina: You went too easy on him.]

[Morganandwine: Should’ve ditched the hammer and grabbed a blade. You know what I mean.]

"Fine. You all can take avatar control next round and fight for yourselves. Damn backseat drivers."

The noise was unbearable. As soon as the first scrim ended, the advisors flooded in, each acting like they could split mountains or part seas with their words. Still, Logan knew he needed to wind down. Even though it was VR, his hands were trembling. Maybe it was the adrenaline from such a realistic battle or just the pressure of trying to perform well after so long.

But as he shut down their nagging, everyone fell silent—except that damn shark.

[Laurentina: So fragile, these North Carolina men. Come down to Virginia Beach; we’ll toughen you up a bit.]

"I’d rather go back to West Point than take up fishing. Can’t stand the smell."

[Laurentina: Always ducking DEVGRU talk, aren’t you? Anaconda, polar bear—you all love the water but won’t give SEALs the time of day.]

When would the recruitment talk ever end?

Anyway, the first match was over, and they had 30 minutes until the next one. Logan handed avatar control over to the four advisors. A moment later, they accepted, and soon, avatars started to pop up around him.

"Seriously, don’t you guys know what an avatar is?"

"Reality is the best avatar," one of them quipped.

"…Sure."

Logan took a moment to grin and brush off the tension. This was the first time they were all together like this, outside of their usual roles. If they’d met in another context, they might never have had any interaction. But everyone here knew this moment wasn’t just a “what if” anymore. So, he gave them a light shoulder tap and a genuine smile.

"Alright, let’s focus. There’s a job to be done."

"A job?"

"Yep."

With a flick of his wrist, Logan pulled up the scrim participant list, scrolling down to E and selecting the name with confidence. A pop-up offered options like whisper, friend request, mute, report, but he was after just one: session invite.

It was time to reunite with Yujin and give these guys a little surprise.

"Just think about what you want to say to Yujin when she gets here."

"Wait, you mean now?"

"Never thought a reunion could feel so anti-climactic."

"God, please let him be joking."

Of course, it wasn’t a joke.

Logan sent the invite, and Yujin responded almost instantly. There was a palpable sense of excitement, impatience, and joy from her end. He couldn’t keep her waiting any longer; the reunion was long overdue.

"Here we go."

"Damn it, what should I say? I’ll buy anyone drinks if they help me out here!"

"As if you’re gonna find anyone here with a refined way of speaking. If I had that, I’d be at CalArts, not here with a bunch of Marines."

"Typical."

"What was that?"

The rambling stopped suddenly. No explanations were needed. All eyes fixed on one spot. The mouths that seemed destined to never shut suddenly fell silent, as if a gag had been slipped over them. Everyone’s gaze locked on, squinting to see more clearly.

Gradually, the blur of a simple human form resolved into a distinct figure, one they all knew well.

"Yujin."

One of them murmured her name, and all eyes stayed on her. She seemed on the verge of breaking down but instead took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The others instinctively opened their arms, ready to embrace her.

Owens stepped forward, breaking the silence.

"Thank you for being alive."

"…Sir…"

No more words were needed. Owens’ uniform darkened with tears.

"Same old crybaby, huh?"

"You cried the hardest at her funeral, Welerman. Don’t twist the truth."

"A guy died. You expect me not to cry? And I wasn’t the only one—Christopher was bawling too. Cut me some slack."

"Are you really picking a fight over this now?"

Despite herself, Yujin let out a laugh, unable to hold it in as Christopher patted her on the back. His voice held an elegant, old-fashioned quality as he chuckled with her.

Morgan, who’d been quietly watching, finally spoke up.

"So… is there something different about being a manifested one?"

"No need to beat around the bush. If you’re curious about a maternal instinct, I’m not some mother hen. And don’t give me that look."

"Everyone give me ten minutes. I’ll grind this guy up and use him for shark fin soup."

"Honestly, you’re acting like a bunch of Red Squadron hotheads."

With each quip, Yujin’s laughter grew. The others knew this reaction well; when she was in a good mood, her tail would wag slowly like seaweed swaying underwater. She’d been an indispensable member of Icarus, and a beloved mascot and little sister to the roughnecks of Task Force Dagger.

Though she’d always been surrounded by testosterone-fueled guys constantly trying to one-up each other, her presence shone through. She had no shortage of affection from her teammates.

"How’ve you all been?" Yujin asked.

"Same as always. Protecting the country doesn’t exactly make for easy living."

"First thing you ask about is the team. I’m guessing you had some rest back in Korea. You’re looking well-fed and bright."

She rubbed her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at them again. Though her expression was complex, it was clear she wasn’t going to cry again. She smiled and asked,

"What about the others?"

"Sirkins is with the Department of Defense, Kissinger joined the Secret Service, Marcus and Rapier are PMC advisors, and Chester… well, he’s recovering from a rappelling accident."

"Everyone’s as stubborn as ever."

"Some things never change, no matter how much time passes."

Logan stepped up and gave her a quick pat on the back.

"That blond kid—he’s your trainee, right?"

"…Yes. You caught him once, if I recall."

"Yeah. We fought early on. The way he moved, it was just like you… but I’m guessing you didn’t want to hear that."

Yujin nodded and took a deep breath. She had anticipated this, but being back in the role of a student made her anxious again. Logan picked up on her tension and began to list his observations.

"You’ve made a mini-Yujin, alright. Mind if I check him over in round two?"

"Are you nuts?!"

"For a first scrim, he moved a bit stiff. Remind him to double-check his kills."

She nodded again. It was just the beginning.

"Flipping the table is your style. But only people at your level can make that work. Otherwise, it’s just a desperate move. Good thing you gave him an aggressive skill set; that was a smart choice."

"Guess I’ve got more to test."

"Six weeks till the Finals—plenty of time to drill him with an SFAUC cycle. All the data you need should be in the gear."

Everyone around nodded. Who else but Yujin? She had grown with everyone’s support and become an integral part of Dagger. She’d find her way, and soon the conversation shifted.

"Think you’ll be back stateside by mid-December? Got time after Christmas?"

"I’ll be here until around January 1st, actually."

"Good to hear."

A QR code appeared above them, scanning to reveal a list of three-star restaurants. The name listed wasn’t anyone among them.

"Hmmm. Seems like a certain Senator has taken a liking to you," Christopher said with a smirk.

"He’s attending the Finals, I heard. Isn’t he in the middle of a campaign?"

"Sure is. He scored big in the Democratic primary by socking all his opponents in the jaw during the fifth debate. Now he’s got some wiggle room to court the gamer vote."

Yujin raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you’ve got a bone to pick."

"Maybe I do. He’s generous, but you can see right through him."

A brief silence. Yujin was curious, but Logan pointed to the clock—only five minutes left until the next match.

She nodded.

"Your trainees are waiting. I’ll be here till the end of the scrim. Come back after the next round."

"Alright. See you at the top."

"Keep dreaming. Now get moving."

Yujin disappeared without hesitation, wearing the look of someone who’d shed a heavy burden. And as she vanished, the conversation resumed.

"Looks like the kid might snag a Medal of Honor first."

"She died and came back. She deserves it. If she heads out to Pakistan, maybe she’ll even earn it there—ow, hey! I was just joking! Our base is north of there, I swear!"

"Turning manifested really did something to this guy…"

They peppered Laurentina’s avatar with virtual bruises.

The shark spoke up, his tone contemplative.

"Still… I don’t think anyone here wants to see someone else get the Medal of Honor."

Everyone nodded solemnly.

After all, about 70% of recipients end up at Arlington, with only 30% surviving, often with scars that would last a lifetime. If it had been a world where a virus hadn’t ravaged America, each of them would have earned that right.

One last quiet breath, and someone spoke.

"Yujin deserves it. It's her reward for all she’s given."

No one argued.

Just two minutes remained until the next round.

_______________________________________________

TL note:

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