Page 35 of Dragon 7

The Dragon's smile vanished.

The darkness reclaimed its territory.

“Good.” I sat back down. "But not good enough."

Kenji frowned. “Not good enough?”

“It should have taken one shell. We can’t waste any.”

“We have enough.”

“They’re bad at shooting.”

“They weren’t prepared.”

“We should have been prepared.”

“We can’t prepare for every fucking thing when it comes to war. There will be mistakes.”

“Mistakes take lives.”

“I know exactly what mistakes cost, but I won't trade tonight away to grief I haven't earned yet. Neither will you."

I swallowed. "Fine."

"Fine."

I scanned the island and at least I didn’t see any ghosts.

Thank God. Please no ghosts during the battle. I have to focus.

Near the bend, two older Scales checked each other's vests, tugged the straps tight, and slapped the plates twice. One of them laughed at something. The other didn't.

And in the dark between the trees, where the moonlight gave up, I caught the shape of men I couldn't see clearly at all. I only knew they were there by the small sounds my ears caught—a bolt sliding home, a magazine seated, a blade testing its sheath, and a man murmuring pleas to God.

Could we defend this island and win?

How long would we battle this evening?

Would we still be fighting in the morning?

Would we still be at war for days?

No. We have to end this here, fast, and tonight.

“Hiro.”

I turned back to Kenji.

My brother had been watching me the whole time and his face showed concern. "Akiro sent that plane ahead to map our positions and get a better view of the island. It didn’t work. Now he's still blind as he goes into war."

“He is.”

“That’s good. Regardless of how many shells it took to bring him that darkness.”

“Okay.”

Only Kenji could sell me a win within the hopelessness. That was probably why he was the Dragon, and why we boldly followed him.