Cannon Fodder: there is a lot of debate and references made worldwide for this word or phrase. Some say it refers to meat shields, bodies thrown forward to soak up the brunt of the enemy's strength so that the more trained or privileged can survive. Human shields to protect the valuable, the talented, or simply the lucky.
Others say cannon fodder is there to distract. To be an annoyance. To force the enemy to split their attention, to draw their eyes forward so they miss the flanking attack, the hidden dagger, or the strike that comes from behind. They are the noise before the storm, a sacrifice meant to buy a few moments of advantage.
In essence, cannon fodder is a sacrifice made by the higher-ups. A consequence of incompetence, of failing to craft strategies where fewer people need to die. The term has become a curse in some places, a shame in others, and yet a reality that repeats across every war.
But what makes you cannon fodder? Is it your lack of strength? Your birthplace? The society that raised you? Or maybe it's your own unwillingness to move forward, to fight, to rise above those around you. Are you condemned to the role because you fall behind?
Do you want the answer to that?
Well, you aren't getting any.
Remember this—whether or not you are called cannon fodder, you are still a living thing. And life, no matter how fragile, is precious.
"That's what my mother told me just before she died in battle protecting her soldier from a cannon shot," Ann said with a tingle of sadness in her voice. Her words hung there, heavier than the falling snow.
"Those are quite dumb last words if I say so myself. Rawr," I muttered, smirking—only for my head to snap forward with a painful bam as someone struck me.
"Kitsu, be respectful," Kayda scolded, glaring at me with that sharp look that always carried weight.
I rubbed the back of my head, scowling. "To someone I've never met? I don't think so. And don't drag out that she's a war hero. I don't care." I waved my hand casually, though the sting still lingered.
"Kitsu," Kayda's voice dropped low, a warning in its tone.
Before things could escalate, Ann raised a hand. "Kayda, stop. I understand how she won't respect the dead, but don't you think my mother's speech was somewhat inspiring?"
Kayda's gaze softened, her shoulders loosening slightly.
"Hmm," I hummed, leaning back. "For any normal person, it would be inspiring, I guess, but—"
"But for you, it sounds like complete bullshit?" Ann cut me off, her lips twitching with both irritation and curiosity.
I shook my head. "No, not quite. It's just that she didn't give you an answer, and that's what makes them dumb last words. How old were you when she died?"
Ann blinked at me, surprised by the question. "...Five."
"So, at five, what did you think about your mother?" I tilted my head, genuinely intrigued.
Ann's face softened. "She was my world." Her nostalgic smile carried the glow of a child's pure admiration.
"Okay. And what do you think about her today?"
"She's my hero, and I miss her a lot," Ann admitted, her voice quiet but steady, her eyes unfocused as if seeing a memory.
I nodded, satisfied. "Alright then. But let's imagine something. What if she had answered her own question with, 'The peasant is there to sacrifice their lives for me'? And I do mean me, not us. For me, personally."
Ann's head snapped up, glaring. "She would never."
"Obviously not, dumbass," I replied bluntly. "She sacrificed herself for her soldiers. Do you really think someone like that would say something that selfish?"
Ann hesitated, cheeks coloring as she looked away. "...No, I guess not."
"Thank you. Now, back to the point. What would you have thought about that answer if you'd heard it at age five?"
Ann frowned, considering. "...Nothing. I wouldn't have really understood what she meant."
"And if you heard it now, at your age today?"
Her lip curled in disgust. "That she was trash. Someone who shouldn't have been in her position."
I smiled at that, pleased. "See? Even twenty years later, with an answer to a question like that, you could learn a lot about someone. Their values, their selfishness, their heart. Words linger, even if they're foolish."
Silence followed. Ann and Kayda both stared at me, processing. The air between us grew heavy until I broke it with a grin.
"Man, this city is beautiful when it snows." I gazed up at the rooftops and roads, blanketed in white. The flakes glittered faintly under the lanterns lining the streets, and for a moment, everything felt still.
"Kitsuna, what will your answer be? To what cannon fodder is?" Ann asked suddenly, curiosity shining through her sadness.
I didn't hesitate. "What is it? I'll say everyone, I guess. There's no such thing as true privilege when it comes to cannon fodder in my eyes." I smiled faintly, still watching the white cityscape.
"What?" Ann blinked, shocked.
Kayda tilted her head. "Kitsu, what do you mean by that?"
"Hmm, how do I explain this..." I tapped my chin. "Everyone is born to do something in their life—protect someone, kill someone, guide someone. So everyone, in the end, is cannon fodder for someone else. It doesn't always mean sacrificing your life in war. It can also mean nudging someone onto the right path, knowing they'll go on to bring in more cannon fodder later. It's a cycle."
Ann's face tightened. "So, you mean to say my mom and everyone else is cannon fodder in your eyes?"
"Yes. Of course. And when you die, you've fulfilled your mission as cannon fodder—or whatever you want to call the circle of life." I shrugged.
Ann shook her head slowly. "...That's something I didn't think you would ever say."
"Really? Why?" I tilted my head at her, genuinely curious.
"I just never thought you were that selfish." She studied me with a thoughtful expression.
"Selfish? How am I—? Oh. Wait. When I said everyone, I did include myself, you know."
Ann's eyes widened slightly. "...Oh. I thought... sorry, misunderstanding."
The conversation might have ended there, but then Kayda suddenly dropped a bomb.
"Kitsu, what am I to you?"
The words hit me harder than any strike to the head.
Silence.
Pure, awkward silence that felt like it froze the world more thoroughly than the winter wind.
I stared at her, expression unreadable, mind in chaos. A million possible answers and a million questions tangled in my head. Was she serious? Was she teasing? Or... did she actually want me to confess?
Kayda's eyes were steady, her expression calm, but there was something in them I didn't want to name. Ann's expression was unreadable too, though I could swear she had stopped breathing.
Before I could form words, salvation arrived.
"Hey, guys, how could you just leave without me?" Katie's cheerful voice rang out as she ran up.
The spell shattered.
"Oh, sorry, we didn't mean to walk too far. We just got caught up in conversation," Ann said quickly, trying to smooth over the tension.
Grateful for the distraction, I let go of the wheelchair handles and allowed Katie to take over, pushing her mother forward. The group began walking again toward the festival, the bright lights visible in the distance.
Still unsettled, I reached out and lightly tugged Kayda's sleeve. "I'll answer later. Let me think," I whispered, so softly only she could hear. My cheeks burned, so I masked it with a quick illusion, hiding the redness.
Kayda gave me the smallest nod. "Okay."
Behind us, Katie whispered to her mother, "Hey, Mom, did those two fight or something?"
Ann chuckled softly. "No, they just left something unsaid. It's making things awkward."
"Huh. I thought they'd be on the same wavelength since they're lovers and all."
"...Katie, they aren't lovers. Not yet."
"What!?" Katie gasped. "I thought they... wow, I'm terrible at reading people."
Ann smiled faintly. "Honestly, I thought the same at first. I still do, in a way. But I think it's more like... they haven't declared it yet."
"I see. So do you think—"
"Yeah. Tonight might be the night they—"
"Fuck! I can fucking hear you two, you fucking elephants!" I exploded, spinning on them with my face burning hotter than fire.
Katie blinked, startled. "Elephant? What's that?"
"It's a big, fat animal," I snapped.
Her mouth dropped open. "Are you calling us fat!?"
"No. Loud." My deadpan stare made her falter.
"It's your fault you could hear us. Who said you should listen to our—"
"Ann, shut up before I rip out your tongue." My patience was gone.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop," Ann said quickly, raising her hands in surrender.
I groaned inwardly. So fucking annoying. Why do I always save her teasing ass? And Katie's acting like someone else entirely since her mother came back.
"But it's fun to tease them," Ann muttered.
I spun on her. "It's someone else's relationship. If you want to comment, at least think before you open your mouth."
"Okay, we—"
I cut her off, words spilling out sharper than I intended. "One of you is too young to even think about relationships. The other one divorced her husband—or more like her sperm donor. Why did you even have a wedding if you were going to divorce him a few months later? Oh, right. Because you were pregnant." My tone dripped sarcasm.
"Hey, that's going too far," Ann said, anger flashing.
"Oh, is it? I could also talk about your skin—"
"Kitsu, that's enough," Kayda interrupted, grabbing my hand firmly.
I froze, glaring, then sighed. "Fine. I'm calm."
Kayda didn't let go. Instead, she turned her sharp eyes on the others. "And you two. You love to talk and talk, but the moment someone talks back, you get mad. It's pathetic."
Her voice was stern and commanding. The scolding tone suited her too well.
My face burned again, for an entirely different reason. Fuck, she's so hot right now. Did I just—
Dropping into a crouch, I covered my face with both hands. "I want to disappear," I mumbled.
Kayda blinked down at me. "What happened with you?"
Ann and Katie shared her confusion, staring at me like I'd grown another head.
And me? I stayed there, crouched in the snow, desperately wishing the earth would swallow me whole.