There was a time in my life when I honestly thought getting reincarnated meant a world of swords and magic.
Turns out, it's a grim SF world where it's robot vs. robot all day every day. Big sigh.If I'd known it would come to this, I should've watched more mecha anime in my previous life.I did watch a ton of isekai, though, so maybe I barely pass.
Like a lot of isekai stories, I came with a cheat: I can pilot a mech absurdly well. Can't complain about that.Thanks to it, I get to stay alive and keep feeding my non-blood-related siblings I picked up in the slums.Even so, I figured I probably wasn't the protagonist of any grand tale.
Reason being, the fights I take part in are small-time.Just little skirmishes between tiny districts on the same planet.I've been working as a merc there for three years now, scraping together pocket change.
Our A07 district? The security's trash. Most people aren't much better.Honestly, I keep thinking we should hurry up and lose, hand over our territory and rights to our rivals in B29, and call it a day.But I've got a little brother and sister to feed, so I keep taking pay from A07's upper crust and swatting down incoming mechs.
Another day, another dumb conflict, another barely-enough payout to keep my siblings eating.For a day rate you could die for, it's laughably low.If I was going to get a cheat, maybe "produce onigiri from my body" would've been better—that's what I catch myself thinking while sipping muddy water.
It was supposed to be a routine fight, but that day felt different.
Bzzt—bzzzzzt—
A burst of static hit my ear. I blinked, then realized the source was the comm unit we'd just installed yesterday.My second sister, Sisel, is a tinkerer.She's getting better at this mech's maintenance than I am.With the allowance I gave her and a bunch of scrounged junk, she put together this comm unit.I don't have allies on the battlefield, so I'd never needed one. Didn't know where I'd ever use it, but it was a present from my sister, so I mounted it anyway.
"Wolf Mercenary Corps recruitment broadcast, edition 207!"
The static suddenly cleared and a bright voice spoke out, and I just about had a heart attack.At the same time, an enemy mech lunged at me, and I forced myself to deal with that first.
"Greetings, pilots of the battlefield! Hey, you—yeah, you. Happy with your current war?"
The cadence was like a radio show.Not addressed to any single person, but a broad, niche broadcast to pilots currently fighting.I parried a sharp strike, eased my machine back to avoid the incoming barrage—and the comm drowned in static again.So basically, the broadcast comes in when I get close to that mech. Easy inference: they're the origin.
…Ugh. It's not my first time fighting that machine, and it's strong.
The ones with matching insignia on the arm move on a completely different level than the rest.B29's ace, maybe? Or some officer's pet soldier? That's what I'd assumed—but if I want answers, I'll need to get in close.
I steeled myself and wrapped my fingers around my toy of a weapon—a length of iron pipe.Seriously, unless you're going for a one-hit kill, you never close in on someone with junk like this.But I've got a cheat; if I decide to do it, I can.And I was too curious about what the radio voice was going to say next.
"We of the Wolf Mercenary Corps are always looking for top pilots! No ride of your own? No problem! Used to be the enemy? Who cares! Past records? Don't matter! We offer solid benefits to all memb—whoa! That was close!"
So it's live.The patter had been so smooth I figured it was prerecorded.
I jammed my pipe into the enemy's elbow joint; a good lever and I could rip the arm clean off—and the radio voice yelped in a panic.I hesitated. In that instant, the mech pulled away. I no longer felt like maiming it, but I still wanted to hear more, so I closed the distance.They kept backing off, so—unusual for me—I pushed deeper and deeper into enemy lines.
"Guaranteed pay—seriously, is your current boss paying you enough? Advanced maintenance support—are you even getting decent parts? Safe housing off the battlefield—tell me your bed isn't a gap in the rubble. Family relocation, too—leaving your loved ones behind in a war zone?"
That last line was the killer pitch.I flinched, got my guard cracked, and ate a nasty hit.If I didn't have my cheat, it would've been a literal killer blow.Didn't help that when I moved in to return the favor, the radio voice sounded rattled, which rattled me.
The only reason I've been able to keep wrecking enemy mechs is because they look like machines.If you remind me there's a person inside, that breaking it kills them—yeah, I hesitate. I'm not into murder.Of course I knew there could be pilots inside. I'm in one, too.
But B29's supposed to be better funded; maybe they're using drones—and from my own experience cobbling mechs from scrap, the frames looked unmanned—so I lied to myself and fought on.
With that hope smashed, my mech got smashed as a bonus.A section crumpled in, leaving it near inoperable.Legs were intact, though. If I focused on retreat, I could still live.
"All who wish to join, reply with the encrypted code—'Wolf Call'! Or go old-school and wave a white flag! See you on the next battlefield!"
The radio said its final line and dissolved back into static.
I crawled—almost literally—back to our living area.That voice looped in my head:
"Safe housing off the battlefield—tell me your bed isn't a gap in the rubble."
I wanted to sigh. That was exactly what my siblings and I had: a gap in the rubble.
I shoved the mech into a so-called "dock," really just walls from collapsed houses propped up like a house of cards. Took a breath.
Immediately, a clink-clank from outside, and the cockpit shivered.That'd be Sisel, the most mechanically savvy of my siblings, starting repairs with me still inside.
I moved the mech's hand with a gesture and signaled for Lisa.She's one of the older kids and, like Marco, helps keep everyone together.At this hour, Marco would be out scavenging, and Lisa would be watching over Toto and Nagi.Lisa stepped onto the mech's palm like she'd done it a hundred times, and I gently lifted her to the chest so she could open the cockpit.
I unlocked it from inside, but she struggled to get the hatch to budge.The frame must've warped in the fight. Happens all the time.Given where the damage was, a warped hatch was unavoidable.Fortunately, not so warped we had to tear it off with the mech's hand.
"Big bro, about what you wanted to talk—"
Lisa couldn't finish.
Because my body, sitting in the pilot's seat, had been run clean through by a thick, brutal length of metal.
The cockpit had taken damage, and an energy-conduction cable had pierced my abdomen.It was running hot at the time, so while it scorched the flesh, the bleeding was minimal. I'd cut the output now; the heat was gone.
Luckily, my internal organs didn't seem fatally damaged.But the heat had fused cable and tissue together; removing it wouldn't be easy.Yanking it out wouldn't "solve" anything—I was stuck where I sat.Well, I'd been spending every waking hour in this seat anyway; maybe it wasn't that big a deal, I told myself.Then I saw Lisa's face go pale, and my optimism nearly cracked. I'm trying to be a good big brother, so I kept my expression steady and spoke to reassure her.
"I'm okay."
At that, time started moving again for Lisa.She shut the hatch, slid up to the pilot's seat, and popped open a cabinet at my feet.Inside was an emergency medical kit. She sorted through it, then got to work on me with practiced hands.But soon her hands stopped. She'd reached the same conclusion I had: there wasn't much we could do here.
At this point, the cable was practically a third arm—or leg—grafted onto me.If we tore it free, the bleeding would be like ripping off a limb.Sure, this world is SF enough that a quick spray can numb pain and stop bleeding instantly.But neither of us had a cheat that turned an emergency kit into a full ER suite.
"I'll… call a doctor. Maybe Ricardo the Dud can do something."
I shook my head.
"No can do."
I don't have a medical cheat.But besides being stupidly good at piloting, I do have another one.
A bit of future sight. A precognition trick.
Even with top-tier piloting, I'd be dead without it.No matter who I fought, the performance gap between my mech and theirs is ridiculous—because I'm driving a patchwork heap I built out of scrap from a dump.
To square up against a mass-production unit with decent specs like that, you'd better be seeing the future.That's why Lisa believes me quickly.
"Let's defect to B29. They'll have a real doctor.""Lisa. Forget my injury for a sec and hear me out, please.""…Okay. What is it?"
If she were on Earth, she'd be middle school age, but Lisa listens better than most adults.She can swallow down any injustice at least once.You have to, to survive here.I've been struggling to change that—one of my dreams is to make it so Lisa can laugh and be a normal kid and throw a tantrum when she wants.
"What if I said… I'm joining the B29 mercs?""If we ignore whether it's possible or a trap, then obviously: good. Everyone says A07 is hell. Which implies everywhere else is at least a little better."
I knew she'd say that.I mean, my precog lets me see a little way ahead.But hearing her say it matters to me.I don't want to be the kind of big brother who acts unilaterally. Family communication matters.
For now, I'm still alive, but when I think about what needs doing, we don't have much time.
Through Lisa, I relayed instructions to the others.She nodded, then before she left the cockpit, I added one more thing.
"Can we… keep my injury secret?""…If I can swear I won't regret keeping it secret, then yes.""Swear it. I'm not planning to die.""I believe you, big brother."
If I die, I'd be dragging my siblings down with me. I won't make that mistake.Lisa hugged me tight before she went.With stiff hands, I rubbed her back a few times.
The cable in me had boiled my blood away at the entry point, so at least I didn't have to worry about staining Lisa's clothes.