Chapter 42

"Kabaddi-kabaddi-kabaddi-kabaddi..."

Crouched low to the ground, Taro crept with agonizing slowness toward Squall. Squall stood his ground with his arms folded, his face a mask of utter indifference.

"Kabaddi-kabaddi-kabaddi..."

Taro’s lungs were starting to burn. He risked a sideways glance and spotted a young male employee standing nearby, looking completely relaxed. The second their eyes met, the man’s face went pale, and he scrambled into a defensive stance as if thinking, Oh crap.

Heh, hook, line, and sinker!

Without even looking back, Taro lunged forward and tagged Squall’s arm. He spun on his heel with a triumphant grin and bolted for the line drawn across the hangar floor.

Suddenly, a black shadow loomed over him.

"DIE!"

"GA-BWAHHH!?"

Alan had appeared behind him out of nowhere. The tackle caught Taro square in the back, sending him skidding across the floor like a skip-stone. Squall strolled over with leisurely strides and planted a heavy boot on Taro’s spine.

"Change of sides," Squall declared with cold precision.

"Ow, ow, ow... You guys don't have a shred of mercy, do you? Also, your team is a total cheat. Putting Alan and Squall on the same side is a blatant violation of the spirit of the game!"

Still pinned face-down, Taro craned his neck around to glare at Alan. Alan stared back, his expression flat. "What a creepy guy."

"Calling foul won't help you now," Alan said, his logic ironclad. "This is an official match between Headquarters and the Branch. Besides, you’re the one who suggested this, remember?"

Taro let out a pathetic groan. He couldn't argue with that. Since the Branch and Headquarters rarely interacted, it was indeed Taro who had suggested they "bond through the magic of sports."

"Anyway, what the hell is this even supposed to be?" Marl snapped from the sidelines, looking thoroughly annoyed. "I don't understand these rules at all."

Taro twisted his head in the opposite direction to address her.

"What do you mean? It’s Kabaddi! Plain old Kabaddi! It was the biggest thing back on Earth. Men, women, children—everyone was doing the Kabaddi-Kabaddi. World champions were treated like literal gods of humanity. If you were a kid on the playground, it was either Keidoro or Kabaddi. Those were the only two options!"

Marl let out a long, disinterested sigh. Alan, however, seemed to be coming around. "It’s not bad exercise," he noted.

"And you don't need any gear. Just like Teiro said, anyone can play... though I have to say, the rules feel a bit vague. How do you even tell if the attacker takes a breath? Do we need to strap gas scanners to our faces?"

"Eh, you just go by the vibes, right?" Taro suggested.

"Vibes, huh? Earth sports are surprisingly deep..."

Alan seemed genuinely impressed. Taro didn't actually agree with his own BS, but he nodded along anyway since it didn't really matter.

"Oh, hey, Alan. By the way, I’m pretty sure you screamed 'Die' a second ago."

"Hmm? You must be hearing things, brother. Don't go saying such ominous things."

"No, no, you definitely said it. You 100% told me to die."

"Didn't happen. Not at all."

"Really? That’s weird. I could have sworn—"

The two of them began bickering and wrestling like actual siblings. Marl sat in the middle of the spectator area, resting her chin on her palm as she watched them frolic like idiots.

"How peaceful," she muttered.

"Indeed, Miss Marl. It is a truly wonderful sight."

Standing beside Marl was Koume. She was currently wearing a custom-made gym uniform—a white short-sleeved shirt with a name tag that read "Koume" and navy blue shorts. Taro had lacked the "courage" to go full-pervert and order bloomers for her. Koume watched the boys with a look of profound sentimentality. Marl gave a weak "I guess so" and stretched her limbs out like a cat.

"Still, those two are awfully chummy. Look at them, walking with their arms around each other's shoulders... I wonder what they're plotting. Their smiles are actually making me a little nauseous."

"Yes, Miss Marl. However, it seems the things they are actually saying are far more nauseating."

Curious, Marl pricked up her ears to listen in.

"I don't know, Teiro. Can it really be that easy?"

"Just imagine it, Alan. A girl comes charging at you to tag you... and once she touches you, you're cleared to tackle her or even 'accidentally' give her a big hug. It's all totally legal! No foul!"

"I see... and, uh, just for the sake of clarity... what about the areas that might result in someone being socially executed? Is tagging allowed there?"

"As long as it’s not intentional, it’s fair game. Yes Kabaddi, No Jail."

"What a magnificent sport! Boss, you’re a genius!"

"Hehe, you can count on me, brother."

Marl’s fists began to shake with rage as the conversation drifted over.

"AS IF! THAT’S IT! GAME OVER! THE MATCH IS CANCELLED!"

Marl’s scream echoed throughout the massive hangar.

---

"Yes, an additional sixty rounds. Right, payment in cash... Uh, is there any way to move that up? We’re in a bit of a rush here."

Inside the Rising Sun office at Delta Station, Taro was bowing repeatedly into his headset. The surrounding employees watched him out of the corners of their eyes, their expressions full of confusion.

"Yes. Ah, understood. Maybe next time, then... Phew." Taro pulled off the headset and dropped it onto the table. "It’s no use, Marl. Nobody is willing to take an order at the old price. Every manufacturing company says they're backlogged with work."

Marl looked up. "Resupplying live ammunition?"

Taro nodded weakly. "Yeah. Ever since WIND started tearing things up, the manufacturing sector has been slammed. Small-fry customers like us can't even get them to answer the phone."

He collapsed into a plush, cushioned chair with a heavy sigh. When Marl held up a hand in a silent question about the price, Taro responded by spreading his fingers wide.

"Five times the cost? Wow, that’s... a bit much. But we have a problem. Take a look at this."

Marl walked over and lightly pressed a data chip against Taro’s forehead. The data transferred instantly to his [BISHOP] interface, displaying a long [EXPENSE ESTIMATE] list directly in his mind.

Ugh, it’s gotten this bad in just a month? Spare ship parts are nearly triple the price... Man, we’re in trouble.

The list of monthly expenses was a sea of red text. Every item had spiked, but the machinery and hardware categories showed staggering increases. For a company like Rising Sun that maintained a fleet of combat ships, machinery was a recurring expense—stuff broke all the time.

"Just when things were picking up, too. This is frustrating. If we could just order the warheads in bulk, the unit price would drop significantly."

"That’s impossible," Marl countered.

"You’re the only one who can actually use them properly. We have some talented people, but it’ll take forever to train them to your level."

"I know, I know..." Taro groaned, staring up at the ceiling.

Taro had personally proven the effectiveness of physical munitions, so he had tried to put the Rising Sun crews through firing drills. The results had been pathetic. At best, the smartest employees could barely manage a single [TURRET].

In truth, the physics of guiding a warhead wasn't the hard part. The problem was evading the [DEBRIS INCINERATION BEAMS]. Everyone hit a wall there. The incineration beams were fast, numerous, and fired in rapid succession. To dodge them, the pilot had to calculate the trajectory of every single [BEAM] in real-time. Once you added in electromagnetic interference and jamming, it was simply too much for a normal human brain to process.

"Even if we buy spare parts in bulk, there’s a limit. We can raise the price of our trade goods, but if we double them overnight, we’ll lose our customers."

"You’re right," Marl agreed. "The central systems might handle it, but the frontier doesn't have that kind of buying power. The area around Alpha is an old system; we can't expect to find many new mineral deposits or resources to offset the cost."

"Yeah, anything worth a damn was mined out centuries ago. The company is raking it in right now, but in this climate, it wouldn't take much to send us into a tailspin."

Taro and Marl shared a synchronized sigh. They sat in brooding silence for a while until Marl seemed to hit upon an idea. She began tapping away furiously at Taro’s portable terminal.

"What are you looking for? Uh... the [UNION PARTICIPATION APPLICATION LIST]? We have one of those?"

Taro leaned over to peek at the screen.

"Of course we do," Marl replied. "You said you wanted to stick with the current setup for a while, so you never even looked at it. We’ve had twenty-two companies reach out wanting to join our Union."

Taro let out a sound of genuine shock. "Whoa. Since when are we famous?"

Marl gave him a flat, unimpressed stare.

"You saved two stations in record time. You’re famous whether you like it or not. Though, thanks to everyone knowing we started as an adult goods transporter, the news coverage was... colorful."

Taro raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, hey, those 'goods' are the reason Rising Sun exists today! Anyway, did you find anything promising?"

"Maybe. Actually, I want to consult you on this one."

Marl swiped the terminal, bringing up a profile for a corporation called [MAKINA CORP].

"It’s a tiny manufacturing and processing firm with twenty-two employees. A real mom-and-pop shop. The company has been around for nearly three hundred years, but they’ve hit a rough patch lately. Their application for the Union looks more like a plea for investment than a mutual partnership."

Taro grunted. "Are we going to let them into the TRB?"

"No," Marl said, shaking her head. "Listen, Teiro. For Railgun warheads and basic maintenance parts... do we really need to insist on top-shelf, market-brand products?"

Taro caught the glint in her eye. "I see where you’re going. You want to bring a manufacturer in-house. But is that something we can just start doing overnight?"

Marl met his skeptical look with a confident smirk. "We can. Most of the components in a warhead—the small attitude control thrusters, the [BISHOP] receivers—those are made by third parties anyway. The companies we buy from are basically just assembly plants."

She held up a finger, pointing it directly at Taro’s nose. "The problem is the supply chain. Buying parts, collecting them, processing them, wholesaling, and then retailing... there’s a profit margin tacked on at every single step. If one company handled the whole process, we could cut the costs drastically. Especially for custom-ordered physical warheads."

"I mean, sure, in theory. But isn't that a massive undertaking?"

"Not at all. I think it’s actually very simple. Because..."

Marl pressed her finger against his forehead, pushing slightly.

"...We’ll just buy them. The company, the blueprints, all of it. Do you have any idea how much liquid cash this company is sitting on right now?"

Taro could only stare at her, his jaw hanging open at her sheer audacity.

---

Author’s Note: The version of Kabaddi appearing in this story is reconstructed from Taro’s hazy memories and differs slightly from the real sport. Usually, matches are gender-segregated. Also, I wonder if I even needed to write this note...