Chapter 22 The Weight of the Scope
Inside the command tent, the air was warm, but the atmosphere was sharp with focus. Niel sat before the comms monitor, the master feed humming in his headset. He heard every crunch of snow and every whispered word from the field. Suddenly, Himari's voice crackled through the frequency—a stream of feverish, annoyed muttering about the cold and the "stupidity" of the task. A ghost of a smirk tugged at Niel's mouth. She had no idea the "High Command" was her primary audience. He stood up and stepped out into the biting wind, catching Sir Vane's eye and giving a subtle nod. Vane immediately broke away, trotting toward him for a private word.
On the ground near the treeline, Kiro watched Niel emerge. His stomach dropped. He tapped his earpiece, his voice a low, urgent hiss. "Tsukihara," Kiro whispered, "your mic is open. Check it and shut it down. Fast."
Up in the branches, Himari froze. Her heart did a painful somersault. "Okay, okay... is it really on?" she stammered, her face flushing a deep, hot red. She fumbled with the controls, her mind racing. How much did they hear? She felt like a complete amateur. She wasn't usually this silly, but the fever was making her thoughts move like sludge.
Mortified, she tried to refocus. The branch was narrow and the bark bit into her legs. She deeply regretted the pride that stopped her from wearing tactical gloves or a harness. If the soldiers notice I'm up here without safety gear, they'll chew me out, she thought bitterly. She tried to settle the heavy sniper rifle, but the metal felt like a block of ice. Her bandaged hand was betraying her—not just a tremor, but a rhythmic twitch that made the crosshairs dance wildly over the white landscape.
"Stop it," she hissed at her own hand. She needed the deep silence of a true sniper, but between the stinging pain in her neck and the fire in her blood, the silence wouldn't come.
"Tsukihara, seriously," Reian's voice broke through the earpiece. He was crouched in the snow, eyes scanning the brush. "Leave the mic open if you have to, but watch what you say. I just saw Sir Vane adjusting his headset. He's on the frequency now."
Himari's breath hitched. "No... he didn't hear the other stuff, did he?"
"Probably not yet," Reian replied. "But he can hear you now. Focus. They're about to release the animal into the sector. Are you ready?"
Himari gripped the cold stock, her knuckles white. "Yes," she whispered with fake confidence. "I'm ready. Just give me the signal."
Down on the frozen ground, the atmosphere shifted as the junior soldiers cleared the "kill zone." Himari squinted through the scope, the crosshairs still dancing. She tried to tuck her hand under her arm to warm it, but the rifle felt like it was going to slide right off the branch. I am not a child, she told herself. I am a marksman. Just one shot.
"Target inbound," Kiro's voice came through, sharp and clinical. "South-West sector. Moving fast. Himari, it's yours. Take it."
Himari held her breath, trying to find that "gap between heartbeats" she had learned back in Cyprus. But her heart was thudding like a drum. The animal—a mountain goat—sprinted into the clearing, a blur of gray and white.
"Now!" Reian hissed.
Himari's finger found the trigger. She pulled, but in that exact millisecond, a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her vision blurred, the world tilted, and the rifle felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
CRACK.
The shot echoed off the mountain, loud and final. But as the smoke cleared, the animal didn't fall. It didn't even flinch. The bullet struck the frozen earth five feet behind it, sending up a spray of dirt.
"Dammit..." she hissed, her voice cracking. It was a small word, but over the open mic, it sounded like a thunderclap.
Himari didn't move. She didn't reset the bolt. She just sat there, the rifle feeling like an anchor pulling her down. The adrenaline was draining away, leaving only the bone-deep ache of the fever and the sharp throbbing in her neck.
Sir Vane didn't shout. He stood by the fire, his face unreadable. "Tsukihara," his voice came through the channel. It was the calm voice of a professional assessing a broken piece of equipment. "Reset your weapon. Report status."
Himari opened her mouth to make an excuse about the wind or the lighting, but the words wouldn't come. Her vision swirled. The white snow below looked like a soft cloud she could just fall into. Her bandaged hand slipped off the grip.
"I... I'm..." she started, but her voice was a faint whisper.
On the ground, Kiro saw the barrel of the rifle dip toward the earth. He didn't need to hear her finish. He stepped toward Sir Vane, his expression grim. "Sir," Kiro said, his voice firm but urgent. "Requesting permission to retrieve my sniper. She's compromised."