"…It's already been 14 years since that child passed."
This year marked the 10th anniversary of the end of the war, and the Austin government announced that it would hold a certain ceremony.
It would be the first memorial service held since the war for the fallen of "a certain front."
"To send him off to the Western Front, only for him to die in just half a month…"
It was a memorial service for the victims of the war between Austin and the Sabbath, the casualties from the era of the East–West War.
There had been several ceremonies held before to honor the dead, but this was the first time that soldiers who had died on the "Western Front" were specifically being mourned.
Surely, there had been some hesitation out of consideration for the Sabbath, an ally of Austin.
"Those 18 years I spent with that boy… what were they?"
The elderly mother looked up at the sky and murmured expressionlessly.
Her son had been a kind, playful, and cheerful child.
That said, he had a mischievous side. She had often been worn out by his rowdiness.
In her own way, she thought she had raised him with care, so that he would become someone who could help others.
When he turned 18, he left for the Western Front with the promise that he'd write a letter every month.
In the end, a notice of his death was delivered before a single letter ever arrived.
It stated that "he fought bravely for his homeland, put himself in harm's way to save his comrades, and met an honorable end on the battlefield."
It took several years for the old woman to truly realize that she had lost her son.
A man is supposed to become independent when he turns 18.
He's just out on his own now. I'm sure he's doing well.
Or maybe he's pretending to have died in battle and was secretly hiding somewhere.
Even after the death notice arrived, the old woman spent her days unable to fully face reality.
A year passed, and her son still hadn't returned.
Two years passed, and not a single letter arrived.
Three years passed, and nothing came.
And then four years passed. Even after the war ended, he never came home.
"I wish he'd just come back and say it was one of his usual pranks. What a heartless son."
Many soldiers perished on the Western Front. It was a place where thousands of soldiers died nearly every day.
The old woman's son, Private Second Class Salsa Virginia, was simply one of those who were killed.
That is all there was to it.
***
The memorial service was held along the banks of the Tar River, at the remains of the trenches on the Western Front.
"Phew… so this is the Western Front."
The old woman decided to attend the memorial service for those who had fallen here.
She wanted to see, at least once, the place where her son had been killed.
"So many people."
After 10 full years of trench warfare, the number of dead was enormous.
A memorial service was held on the 10th anniversary due to countless requests from bereaved families.
"…Did Salsa hide in one of these holes?"
The scars of war remained all across the former Western Front.
Black earthen pits stretched downward, with weed-choked stakes driven evenly into the ground. Some of the attendees stroked those stakes with tears in their eyes.
Among them were those who seemed to be former soldiers who walked with a limp.
"Thank you all for taking the time to come here despite your busy schedules."
Before long, the ceremony began in a restrained and solemn manner.
Military officers and government officials dressed in mourning attire bowed their heads with grave expressions.
"Today, we have come to pay our respects to the souls of those who lost their lives on this battlefield."
The speaker at the memorial service was a petite woman named Iris Valou.
From her self-introduction, she had also fought on the Western Front.
"Whoa, it's Iris-sama…"
"It's my first time seeing her."
Nearby attendees looked surprised upon hearing her name.
Though the details were unclear to the old woman, she was apparently a famous military figure.
"Now, I would like to offer a moment of silence to express my gratitude to the heroes who died here, as they have laid the foundation for the peace we have today."
At her signal, all attendees bowed their heads in silence.
The old woman, too, quietly offered her prayers while thinking of the son she had lost.
***
"Is there anyone connected to Jean Freed's platoon? Anyone at all who knew Jean Freed will do!"
"Excuse me, but did you know a Private Moki? Do you have any information about him at all?"
A social gathering was also held by the former trenches after the ceremony ended.
There, the bereaved families went around asking after stories of the relatives they had lost.
"Let's split up and discuss by combat zone."
"Anyone connected to the Southern Front, please gather in the adjacent area! The Central Front is over here!"
The families spoke eagerly, trying to exchange whatever information they could.
The old woman was overwhelmed by their energy, her eyes darting back and forth.
"Hello, ma'am. Who are you looking for?"
"Ah, um… I'd like to hear about my son who passed away."
"What's your son's name?"
"Salsa Virginia."
"Hmm, sorry. Can't say I know him."
Even so, the old woman did her best to search for anyone who might have known her son.
However, her son Salsa was killed in battle just 10 days after setting out.
There was not a single person who knew his name.
"Did you know a Private Second Class named Salsa?"
"Uh… I'm sorry."
No matter how many people she spoke to, she couldn't find out anything about Salsa.
The old woman's heart ached each time she was told they didn't know him.
"If he died in just half a month, the ones who met him might not remember him either."
"Comrades change fast out there."
With every question, she felt the weight of reality settle in.
That Salsa Virginia had accomplished nothing after joining the military.
He had died a meaningless death, without leaving so much as a trace in anyone's memory.
"If I find anyone who knows him, I'll tell them to come speak with you, ma'am."
"Thank you."
It had been 12 years since he died. Hearing stories now wouldn't bring her son back.
Still, she didn't want to believe that her son's death had been for nothing.
At the very least, she wanted to believe that it had meant something.
"It had meaning. There must have been soldiers who survived in your son's place."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Just think of it that way, ma'am."
Humans seek meaning in death.
When someone dear to them dies, they don't want to think it was meaningless.
That's why war is cruel. In war, the value of life becomes far too light.
"We are alive today thanks to the heroes who died here."
"Is that really the case?"
No one who attended today remembered Salsa. No one knew anything about him.
Even though the old woman had lost her son 14 years ago, on this day, she was overcome by a sense of loss as if she had lost her son all over again.
"…Phew."
"Hey, Granny!!"
In the end, the old woman was unable to hear her son's legacy and began her lonely trudge home.
She had wanted to share stories, any stories at all, about the child she had lost 14 years earlier.
The woman grumbled quietly to herself as she walked.
"Do you need something from me?"
"Good news, ma'am! I've found someone who knows your son!"
"…Really?"
At that moment, a retired soldier grabbed her by the shoulder.
With an excited look on his face, he took her by the hand and pulled her along.
"Salsa Virginia from Garback Platoon, right?"
"Yes, yes. That's my son."
"Alright, this way! Your son did something unbelievable!"
Though somewhat bewildered by the man's excitement, the old woman decided to follow the retired soldier if it meant she could finally hear about her son.
***
"Are you perhaps Salsa's mother?"
"…Yes."
The person standing where the old woman had been led by the hand was the petite woman who had served as speaker at the earlier service.
"My name is Iris Valou… no, I should introduce myself properly here. My name is Touri Lowe."
"Touri, you knew my son?"
"Yes."
The formally dressed woman who called herself Touri bowed deeply to the old woman.
The old woman had already sensed that she was a highly renowned military figure, so she hurriedly bowed in return.
"…Please, don't bow your head."
"No, no, I—"
"I remember Salsa very well. He was my first comrade-in-arms who joined Garback Platoon at the same time as me."
There was still a soldier alive who knew her son, Salsa. That fact alone filled the old woman with relief.
"How was my son on the battlefield. Was he of any use at all?"
"That's…"
Touri Lowe wore a complicated expression as she faced the old woman.
Seeing that look, the old woman worried that perhaps Salsa had held his comrades back, but…
"I made a mistake. The fatal mistake of not reporting something important."
"Touri?"
"And the result of that mistake was that Salsa protected me and was killed in action in my place."
She spoke in a pained voice, as if confessing her sins.
"…Then you're saying Salsa died because of you?"
"Yes, he did. If I had done my duty properly, he wouldn't have died. He was killed because he protected me."
"Is that how it is?"
Touri Lowe's face showed clear signs of tension. She seemed prepared to get slapped across the cheek.
"I see… Well, that's good, then."
"…Huh?"
Instead, the old woman smiled gently at Touri.
"You're alive in my son's place. That means Salsa's death had meaning."
"Aren't you angry?"
"If I'd been told that 14 years ago, I might've punched you."
Touri Lowe was still young. Probably even younger than Salsa.
And she had said they enlisted at the same time. That meant, if she was his junior…
"My son must've gone and protected you on his own when you were about to die because of your mistake, right?"
"…"
"That's how I raised him."
Protecting a younger girl who enlisted alongside him. That was exactly the kind of person Salsa had been.
Thinking that he stayed true to his strong sense of justice in his final moments warmed her heart.
"I won't say I have no feelings about you at all. But, if I blamed you here, Salsa would surely scold me for it."
"I'm truly sorry."
"More than that, I'm happy that my child's life truly had meaning."
Saying that, the old woman chose to forgive Touri.
She believed that this, too, was for the sake of her deceased son.
"Yes, Salsa's sacrifice was by no means in vain."
"I see, I see."
"Yes, I'm not particularly fond of boasting about my achievements, but…"
Touri kept her gaze fixed steadily on the old woman.
She quietly took her hand in a handshake and continued with confidence.
"For once, I will speak with pride. I'll put it bluntly."
"Touri?"
"If I hadn't survived, I believe Austin would have fallen."
The old woman was shocked by Touri's claim.
"That's how much I feel I've contributed to this country."
"Well… my goodness."
As she looked at Touri, who had spoken so grandly, most of the soldiers nearby nodded in agreement.
"Salsa, the one who saved my life…"
In fact, Austin would almost certainly have lost the war without her.
Which is why the death of a Private Salsa was far from meaningless.
"It's fair to say he was a private who saved his homeland, Austin."
…After that, the old woman looked into the military achievements of Iris Valou and was left utterly speechless.