Gunsuke had spent two years training in every kind of firearm for tactical shooting competitions. His efforts had earned him the runner-up title in the civilian division. But more than competitions, it was the real-life encounters—in Afghanistan and most recently with the Amoon on this very planet—that had taught him the true lessons of combat.
"Position yourself where you see the enemy first," he said. That was his first and most crucial advice to the girls, now that they could aim and shoot from a stationary stance.
Throughout the morning, Gunsuke trained them in basic shooting positions—standing, kneeling, and prone. And overall, they did well. In the afternoon, he set up an unannounced tactical maneuver drill to test their reaction and movement under simulated pressure.
Unsurprisingly, Issie scored highest. She blew apart several dummy targets with her black AK-47. However, her sidearm performance was only average. Lemo had an explanation for that: her large chest. The AK had high recoil, but the shape of her body gave her better control when shouldering the weapon. That same feature, however, slightly slowed her down when drawing and aiming her pistol.
The dark horse of the group was none other than Mindaa. She shot with impressive precision from static positions. Her years of dance training made her agile and fluid. Her coordination between hand and foot movements during tactical shooting was almost surreal. But her small build—similar to Mari—meant that the weight of a fully loaded assault rifle (4–5 kg) wore her down quickly, especially toward the end of the drill. Lemo made a note to find her a lighter firearm.
Molly was a natural sharpshooter, especially in the prone position. Her focus and breathing control were exceptional. Lemo believed that with just a bit more training, she could easily qualify for a military sniper program.
And then there was Mari, the imaginative little cosplayer. She performed best with short-range handguns, both while stationary and while moving. Her small size made long guns harder to handle, and once again, it was Lemo who would need to find a firearm that suited her better.
"How'd the afternoon training go?" Lemo asked later.
"They're working hard. Every one of them wants to get you to treatment," Gunsuke said. The words hit Lemo like a punch to the gut.
...They're doing all this… for me?
"Stop that line of thought. It's impossible," Lemo muttered. "It's way too dangerous."
"You never know until you try," Gunsuke replied with a shrug and a smile. Lemo shook his head at the man's stubborn optimism, but also realized that if his illness inspired the girls to train this hard, then maybe it was a good thing. After all, it would benefit them in the long run.
"Then you'd better train them hard," Lemo said, his voice firm like a commanding officer.
"Of course. They're pushing themselves harder than yesterday. Especially Mindaa. Her skills might already be better than yours when you were young." Gunsuke grinned and held up a turkey carcass—Mindaa's first long-range kill.
"If you want to concede defeat already, I won't stop you," he added with a smirk.
"Oh, please," Lemo replied with a scoff. "Maybe the poor turkey just stumbled across the range by accident."
They had made a bet the other day—who would be the top shooter by the end of training: Mindaa or Issie? Gunsuke, drawing from his own experience, thought Mindaa had the makings of a killer. But Lemo, with his military background, believed the Russian girl would come out on top.
"Don't count your chickens before they hatch," Lemo grinned. "Wait until my Russian girl gets serious."
"How about we settle the score tomorrow?" Lemo proposed after a moment.
"I like that idea," Gunsuke replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"So… what do we do with this unlucky bird?" Lemo asked, pointing to the turkey carcass.
"No idea. Mari trained so hard today her hands are swollen. She probably can't cook."
"I'll handle it," Lemo said, taking the turkey and inspecting it. It weighed about five kilograms, enough to feed everyone. "Help me pluck it?"
"No problem." Gunsuke took the bird back and had nearly finished when Mari appeared at the back door.
"Gunsuke?" she called out, dusty but smiling.
"What is it, Mari?" he asked, plucking the bird's rear feathers.
She wore the Survey Corps jacket from Attack on Titan, and Gunsuke couldn't help but wonder when she might show up in a Sailor Moon outfit next.
"We want to take a bath. All of us."
"Go on. I'll finish the turkey," Lemo said from beside the chopping board, still sharpening his knife.
"Yes, sir."
"And watch out for bears," Lemo added, glancing at his still-tender shoulder wound.
"Copy that," Gunsuke replied, saluting with a hand full of turkey fluff before following Mari inside.
"Hack… hack…" Lemo coughed hard after they were out of sight. Pain surged through his chest. The bear wound and blood loss had likely worsened his condition. He washed his hands in freezing water and, hands shaking, pulled out his pill bottle from his jacket. He popped two anti-cancer pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry.