The hangar was unusually quiet that night.
Floodlights glowed weakly over the rows of damaged mobile suits, their scorched armor reflecting the pale flicker of maintenance torches. Mechanics moved sluggishly, exhausted from days of nonstop repair. The air carried the mingled scent of oil, ozone, and smoke — the perfume of war that refused to fade.
Gary Lin sat on a metal crate beside his battered Strike Gundam, helmet resting on his lap. For once, he wasn't barking orders or analyzing data. He was just… breathing. His eyes trailed across the hangar ceiling, watching the dance of shadow and light play out like a quiet film.
"Not bad," he muttered, voice low and dry. "Survived another round. Didn't blow up, didn't reincarnate, didn't trigger a nuclear meltdown. That's what I call progress."
The faint hum of his System flickered in his neural link — not commanding this time, just idling, almost like a companion trying to decide if it should speak.
He leaned back, closing his eyes. "Man, I could actually sleep right here... if you don't throw me another mission alert."
> [No pending missions detected.]
"Good." He exhaled, half-laughing. "Maybe you're not the devil after all."
A soft digital pulse followed — the kind that meant the System had something to say but was hesitating. Gary cracked one eye open. "What? You sound like you're buffering bad news."
> [Notice: One mechanic function remains unresolved from prior operation.]
He groaned. "You're kidding me. Don't tell me I forgot to pay repair points again."
> [Negation. Subject pertains to Summon System.]
Gary froze. "…Summon system?"
> [Affirmative. 'Daily Life Character Summon' executed during Odessa engagement.]
He blinked, then sat upright. "Wait, I actually clicked that? I thought it was a glitch—some stupid option that popped up when I was getting shot at!"
> [Execution confirmed.]
[Three entities summoned successfully.]
Gary rubbed his face with both hands. "Oh for god's sake... I was half-dead and running oxygen at six percent, who in their right mind clicks a summon in the middle of a war?!"
> [Host did.]
He stared into the middle distance. "You're way too proud of that."
> [Would Host like to review current summon roster?]
Gary groaned, defeated. "Might as well. Go on, hit me."
> [Subject #1: Hikigaya Hachiman.]
He blinked once. Then twice.
Finally, he tilted his head, expression unreadable. "…You mean that Hachiman? The walking embodiment of teenage pessimism? The 'youth is a scam' guy?"
> [Affirmative.]
[Context Integration Complete. Subject currently assigned as Federation Trainee at Jaburo Military Academy.]
Gary stared blankly at the floor for a long time before muttering, "Of all the universes... I get him? Not a super pilot, not a strategist, but Hikigaya freaking Hachiman?"
He dropped his head into his hands. "I was hoping for someone useful. Like, you know, a mechanic, or maybe a combat android. Instead, I summon the guy whose biggest fight was arguing with a teacher."
> [Correction: Subject possesses Adaptation Perk.]
"Yeah? What kind of perk could possibly make him relevant on a battlefield?"
> ['Sibling Safety Protocol'—Derived from Sister Complex Trait.]
Gary's mouth hung open slightly. "…You're telling me his survival ability is powered by being a siscon?"
> [Affirmative.]
He leaned back, utterly speechless for a moment. Then he sighed, long and tired. "You know what? Fine. I'm not even going to question it. If the multiverse runs on irony, then sure — a snarky, antisocial teenager powered by little-sister love belongs here."
He picked up a wrench from beside him, tossing it lightly in one hand, eyes drifting toward the massive hangar doors. "Guess I should be thankful it wasn't the guy from School Days. I'd uninstall the system on the spot."
> [Observation logged.]
He smirked. "Yeah, yeah. You always log things, never delete them."
The Strike Gundam stood silently behind him, its armor dimly reflecting the hangar light — scarred, but still standing. A quiet hum from its reactor core pulsed like a heartbeat. Gary watched it for a long while before murmuring, "You know, if he's really in Jaburo... I might actually meet him."
> [Affirmative. Encounter Probability: 87%.]
He tilted his head. "And the other two summons?"
> [Pending Disclosure.]
Gary squinted suspiciously. "You're holding out on me, aren't you?"
> [Anticipation Protocol active.]
[Revealing next subject in following morning.]
"Of course. Cliffhanger logic. Even my system follows anime pacing."
He chuckled under his breath, half amused, half exhausted. The night outside the hangar was deep and still; the stars shimmered faintly through the dust clouds above Odessa's scarred plains. Somewhere up there, Zeon's fleet was retreating — and down here, the Federation was licking its wounds.
Gary rubbed the back of his neck, muttering, "So, Hikigaya Hachiman, huh? I can already picture him sitting in Jaburo's classroom, writing an essay about how mobile suits are just metaphors for societal pressure."
He let out a dry laugh. "Man, if he actually survives, I'll buy him coffee."
The System chimed once, soft as a heartbeat.
> [Record saved.]
"Yeah, yeah. Save it. Maybe next time, warn me when I summon characters who think happiness is a scam."
Gary leaned back again, letting the hum of the hangar lull him into stillness. For the first time since the war began, his smirk softened into a quiet smile.
"…This world's getting way too weird," he whispered.
And in the flickering light of the repair bay, the ace of the Federation — an otaku-turned-pilot — closed his eyes, halfway between exhaustion and laughter.