“Good job holding them back there, Iru,” commented Murayama, his eyes quickly jumping around the several tables placed together to form a long line across the dining area. After certifying himself that none of the super soldiers was behaving like a total lunatic for the hundredth time, he relaxed his body for a few more minutes before the process began all over again. “If you had told them to attack them in self-defence, things would have gone really wrong for us.”

“Their actions weren’t in accordance with the soldiers in other areas of this base so I decided to play safe and see what they had in store for us,” grumbled Iru under his breath, his mood visibly on the sour side as he continuously tapped his finger on the table, blood-thirsty eyes stuck to one of the dining area’s entrances. “I’m greatly regretting I didn’t, though.”

“Don’t say that even as a joke…” almost sobbed Murayama, releasing a tired, half-exasperated sigh afterwards. “Rei is okay. They only did that as a military drill of some sort. Let sleeping dogs lie, okay?”

“Would you say that too if they had done the same thing to, let’s say, the Emperor? Or the Prime Minister?” inquired Iru, sideways glaring at Murayama as if he had just repeated the physical offence a second time.

“Well, but I’m only human so what do you expect?” scoffed Murayama, straightening his sitting position to more easily cross his arms over the table. “I’m always restrained by those obligations, laws and common sense you guys hate so much. If the person himself doesn’t mind it, you shouldn’t give it much thought either. Any other complaint?”

“Does Rei look like he doesn’t mind?” pointed out Iru, leaning slightly back to reveal the super soldier sitting to his right. If anything, Iru had the most victorious smirk ever witnessed in the modern era as he did so.

“How could you…?” mumbled Rei with a small voice, his expressionless demeanour downcast towards the table’s surface. “How could you do that to me…?”

“Umm… Rei?” hesitantly called Murayama, gulping down hard his worries and concerns. “Is there… any problem?”

“You went to Osaka to have fun and left me behind…” grumbled Rei, his expressionless face getting exponentially more depressed. “I also wanted to eat new types of food… And walk around the streets… And watch the trains… And buy more train tickets… And ride more trains…”

“Well, but I’m only a super soldier so what did you expect?” said Iru with a monotone voice, his smug expression pure taunting as Murayama shot him a dirty look. “I’m always restrained by my thoughts of wanting to obliterate the human specie that you guys hate so much. If the humans themselves do things that arouse my ire, you shouldn’t try to make things worse by defending them. Any other complaint?”

“Just shut up and listen to what General Sakazaki has to say…” conceded Murayama, inwardly raising the white flag.

When all was said and done, there was little use to stress over the super soldiers’ behaviour. He doubted that Iru would forget his ways of sadistic word torture and manipulation or that Tsugi could wait in the dining area without drooling all over the place. He knew that Azuma would remain as anti-social as usual, that Mitaru would have constant mood swings around everyone, regardless of military rank, and that Atsumu would twist others’ good intentions around his little finger as entertainment.

Mitsu would be the least of their problems, as she was far too used to pretend to be human to act like a complete weirdo 24/7 - the only exception to that was when her fangirl mode was activated by Rei or she tried to monopolise Mitaru’s attention.

On the other hand, they also had an unconscious trouble magnet in their midst - its name was Rei. He didn’t misbehave, he did as he was told most of the time and he had a knack for deadly honesty over lies and deceit. But those three qualities turned into demerits when most outsiders joined the equation.

And it goes without saying that I also need to keep a close watch on the human side of the team, inwardly sighed Murayama, once again running his eyes through the long line of tables. This time, his squad had been the target of the quick inspection. I sure hope neither Miue or Mizusaki start any trouble around here… I’m going to leave Hisaka and Kuwabayashi in Kinjou’s hands, though. My plate is already overflowing with two squads-worth of troublemakers.

After releasing a masked sigh, Murayama turned his attention to the pre-fabricated stage built next to one of the walls. The general of the Osaka's military base was climbing to its centre and readying himself to begin his speech.

“Food and non-alcoholic drinks - sorry to disappoint you, Matsuda - will be served in a matter of minutes so please do entertain me for a couple of minutes here,” started Sakazaki, leisurely removing a cigarette from his military uniform’s front pocket and lighting it with a zippo. After a slow, unhurried drag, he resumed his words. “Speaking of entertainment, I hereby express my utmost gratitude for the earlier display of courage by the Tokyo denizens as they bravely did nothing while facing our mettle. Thank you for being so cooperative at showing the big difference between a pretender and the real deal.”

Sakazaki’s opening aroused a small wave of scornful whispering and taunting snorts within the local soldiers, alongside mocking long glances at the table where the dubbed ‘Tokyo denizens’ had been gathered. The general had the wisdom that came with age and experience, however, so he didn’t resort to the policy of staying on the good side of his subordinates only.

“But never forget: cooperation doesn’t always equal to individual strength,” reminded Sakazaki, leaving the lit cigarette hanging from his hand. “Cooperation is nothing more than a strategy, a means of survival. One individual alone is weak, for as strong and experienced as they may be. Hundreds actively working together under one cause will become more powerful than the strong and experienced. I won’t go for the cliché of ‘unity makes strength’ or some flowery BS, but history has long proven that the bigger group wins more often than not. Otherwise, democracy would be a myth. Tokyo may have lost today’s battle but it was fought in enemy territory, without any equipment and under the disguise of a friendly invitation. Even Lieutenant Shou would be killed if he was naked while surrounded by semi-automatic rifles. As such, we now need to find out the truth. Did General Nakatani send us a few barrels of rotten apples… or are they golden apples covered in soot and dust due to the long road trip? So we eat and drink now, brush our teeth and go to bed like good boys and girls afterwards, and tomorrow we’ll be kicking some Tokyo ass on equal ground!”

The ending of the speech was welcomed with a loud round of applause and cheers, even some cups and glasses being rhythmically banged on the tables.

“Hmph… It seems all generals are flour from the same sack,” grumbled Azuma while dismissingly adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “All of them are proficient manipulators whose words shift directions more times than the wind.”

“It’s a duty that comes with the job,” said Mizusaki, a bored look on his face as he played around with the cutlery displayed in front of his seat. “Some are more welcoming of it than others, though.”

That’s how internal conflicts, rebellions and world wars start...