Mismatched Partners in the 39th Sector
Maybe I should've dodged the 39th Sector after all.
Netoru rubbed the lingering sting on his cheek, recalling the female pilot he'd coupled with today. ‘…Her name was Karen, right?’
Even though he'd been stationed in the 39th Sector for a full week already, today was the first time he'd met the girl named Karen. From what he'd heard, she'd been hospitalized until now and had only just returned. In any case, though it had ended on a sour note, she hadn't left a bad impression overall. A refined yet calm aura, short black bobbed hair that swayed gently... True to the world of anime where most characters were handsome men and beautiful women, she had striking looks. But what had impressed him most was the mana nerve system built within her body. It was so clean and precise—even compared to most noblewomen—that it had genuinely surprised him.
Including Karen, most of the unit's members in the 39th Sector were commoners. Building a high-grade mana nerve system was no small feat for them. And yet, for her to achieve that level clearly came from tremendous effort and exceptional talent. That was why, even after getting slapped by this girl named Karen, Netoru couldn't help but smack his lips in satisfaction at their compatibility.
Finding a commoner with a mana nerve system of that caliber wasn't easy. And considering that a female pilot's capabilities directly determined a Holy Knight's performance, Karen was a talent too valuable to let slip away lightly.
"Just to make sure—did you really get slapped by Karen the moment she returned?"
She must've heard the story from somewhere. "Yeah. I did."
Rien's expression hardened at Netoru's blunt reply. "Even if it was temporary, getting slapped by your coupling partner on the very first day... You've got some kind of talent for it, I suppose. Karen's not the type to lash out with violence for no reason..."
She pressed a hand to her forehead with a sigh, worry etching across her face.
"I don't know what the hell you did mid-battle, but right now, you're the only one in the unit who can couple with her."
"No other reserves?"
"No. None."
Fair enough. Netoru shrugged indifferently. If there weren't any, he'd just have to make do. Rushing around wouldn't magically produce a female pilot out of thin air.
Of course, the unit had other female pilots besides Karen. But they all already had their coupling partners. Coupling wasn't something you could just do by hopping into the same Holy Knight. Once pilots had coupled—even in practice—they rarely switched partners lightly. Finding a wavelength match wasn't easy to begin with, and changing disrupted the synchronization they'd already achieved.
So breaking up existing pairs just to accommodate Netoru personally was out of the question.
"...What are we going to do about this?"
Rien's sighs grew heavier, but Netoru remained utterly nonchalant, as if it had nothing to do with him.
And why wouldn't he? In a way, this situation wasn't so bad for him. No coupling partner meant no sorties—which meant no need to risk his neck fighting bugs.
In that sense, the one in real trouble here was the unit commander, Rien Prust. From her position, she couldn't just bench a valuable asset over something like this.
* * *
In the end, unable to find a solution, Rien sent Netoru on his way and sank into thought alone. She needed to decide how to handle both his coupling and Karen's.
Truth be told, Karen—the one who'd coupled with Netoru today—already had a proper coupling partner. The problem was that her partner needed half a year of long-term treatment after injuries from the last battle.
Half a year—not a month or two. She couldn't keep Karen benched in the unit that whole time.
That was why Rien had proposed it to Karen today: try coupling with Netoru once.
‘…Asking her to try it again would be pushing it, huh.’
Coupling wasn't something even a commander could order lightly. She knew full well the strain it put on pilots.
To Rien Prust, coupling was a contract between man and woman to operate a Holy Knight. Mismatched wavelengths made it pointless. In most cases, they couldn't even move the Holy Knight properly, let alone output real power. In the worst scenarios, it scarred them physically and emotionally.
Choosing a partner demanded caution. Coupling with a mismatch was suicidal against bugs.
No normal pilot would want to pair with someone whose rhythm didn't sync in battle.
In that light, Netoru was an anomaly in every sense.
—I don't care who my coupling partner is.
He'd said that on his very first day here, and sure enough, he'd successfully coupled with Karen, whom he'd just met today.
"Who would've thought the rumors were true..."
At first, she'd dismissed the rumors about Netoru as exaggerated. But they checked out. She'd seen his skills firsthand in today's battle.
Not only had he coupled instantly with a stranger, but he'd drawn that much power out of Karen. Sure, it happened sometimes—partners whose wavelengths meshed so perfectly from the start. But that was exceedingly rare, and clearly didn't apply to Netoru and Karen. The fact that she'd slapped him the moment she got back to base proved it. People with great compatibility didn't fracture like that.
So maybe the rumors were spot-on. Maybe Netoru really had some special ability. The power to couple with any female pilot...
"...Rien. What're you thinking so hard about?"
The familiar voice right in front of her snapped Rien out of her reverie. She looked up slowly to see a woman in a crisp white coat, brown hair framing her face—Asuna, the maintenance mage in charge of Holy Knight upkeep.
"Is it about that Netoru guy who just left?"
"...You could say that."
"Hmph..."
Asuna must've run into him on the way here. She raised an eyebrow, hesitating a moment before speaking in a dubious tone.
"Rien. Did we really have to bring that guy into our unit?"
As the head of maintenance, Asuna had no love for the man called Netoru. The rumors were one thing, but his cocky attitude grated on her. Just look at how he treated the commander—no soldier acted that arrogant around their superior. He was a total thug.
Rien's expression clouded at Asuna's clear displeasure. "You know how bad things are in the 39th Sector, Asuna. We don't have the luxury to be picky. We need every scrap of firepower we can get."
"...I get that. But did it have to be that thug? Even the nobles kicked him out."
There was a reason Netoru had been bounced from unit to unit despite his skills and abilities. But there was no helping it.
"Still... his skills are the real deal."
"..."
Asuna chewed her lip at Rien's response but held her tongue. She had plenty to say, but she understood Rien's reasoning. A top-tier pilot would boost everyone else's survival odds. In the 39th Sector's mess, minimizing casualties was priority one—even if it meant relying on a scumbag.
"...Fine. Whatever. It's your call." With a low sigh, Asuna handed over the document she'd been holding: the report on Netoru and Karen's coupling from today's battle.
"The coupling wavelength records you asked for."
"Thanks."
Rien checked the report right there—and her face promptly stiffened.
"......"
Their wavelengths didn't match at all. Far worse than expected. In other words, their coupling was a disaster.
* * *
When had it started? This business of some clueless guy naturally piloting a Holy Knight and fighting bugs.
To be honest, piloting a Holy Knight against bugs wasn't easy. One tiny mistake meant death.
So early on, he'd agonized over it. Was continuing as a Holy Knight pilot really the right path?
The battlefield—once just anime on a screen—had become a living hell. A warzone overflowing with blood and slaughter, where death spilled over daily.
Living there, the doubts kept coming. Wouldn't it be better to hole up in the rear cities like a normal civilian, safe under protection?
Anyone would agree: safer than battling monsters up front. Just let others handle it all.
But at some point, Netoru realized the truth. To survive here, he had to fight.
He'd seen too many innocent civilians massacred by bugs due to Frangia Kingdom's incompetent army. Watching them die without resistance led to one conviction: in this world, survival meant never depending on anyone.
Trust only yourself. Better to seize your fate on the front lines with your own strength than get butchered one day while naively relying on others.
"...No matter how many times I see it, this unit's a total dump."
Sunset had fallen, bathing the base in a bloody red glow. Netoru surveyed the surroundings and shook his head.
His current base was a ramshackle outpost in a ruined city's depths—barely holding shape, without proper defenses. It was an eyesore of amateurishness.
Were the other units in the 39th Sector this pathetic too? From what he'd seen on other fronts, this place looked like a ragtag band of stragglers.
He'd been trudging back to his room, numb to the dreary base after a week of it, when something caught his eye.
"...That guy's."
A rusty basketball hoop crudely set up in an empty lot. Someone was dribbling there.
Up close, it was a petite girl with brown hair in twin tails. Her legs pumped as she dribbled and dashed, her neatly tied hair bouncing along.
Netoru paused to watch. She was intriguing, after all.
He'd crossed many battlefields, but this was his first time seeing one in person. Couplings were usually between opposite-sex pairs.
But exceptions existed—like twins born on the same day.
‘Where's the other one?’
Rumor had it they were inseparable. So why was she alone?
That question lingered when—
"You shady blackie. What're you peeping at like some perv?"
A childish yet bratty voice rang out right behind him. Frowning at the bizarre insult he'd never heard before, Netoru turned.
‘...This one's?’
There stood the girl who'd just been on the court. Or rather—something identical to her.
Same looks, build, hairstyle. Indistinguishable except maybe as older or younger...
Twin sisters—Ran and Rin.
One of them stood there, arms crossed, glaring daggers.
