On my way home from work, I got caught by an angel. Not the Angel at home, but an angel from the actual A-ray subspecies.
"You're not very sociable lately. Rejecting an invitation from a pretty person like me, you must be impotent!"
She said that as she pushed me into a bar and offered me a glass of alcohol.
...it's true I haven't spoke to her for about a half a year.
While we were having some casual conversation, a bunch of hecklers butted in. They said the angel should accompany the A-rays instead of that human. I thought so too, but she shut them up with a glare.
"I'm sorry, were you offended?" she asked.
"Yeah, I don't feel good about it, but they're right. Why do you care about someone like me? Don't A-rays find lovers in order to produce stronger species? I won't be able to create strong children."
"It doesn't hurt to make an exception, does it? Besides, our outside appearance matters more to us. There aren’t many species that are close to the angels, and you're my type. There's no problem," she said as she drank the purple fizz in her glass.
She looked like a real angel. Her wings weren't used for flying; they were a dish to collect the heavy particles in the surroundings. The angel species are able to fly without wings. Originally the protectors of the A-rays called the Six Sisters, angels are considered to have fighting power equal to the Knights who carried the Demonic Swords.
In other words, they can perform destructive activity akin to a nuclear bomb on their own.
As we drank more alcohol and our true characters were more or less revealed, she asked a weird question. “Hey, why do you use a gun?"
"Humans can't use Gin like you A-rays, you know. Our strength is limited as well, so it's natural we rely on weapons. What other practical firearms are there other than a gun?"
"Hmm. That means humans aren't made to fight. But why do you still fight?"
"...let's see. If I recall correctly, my family was killed when I was small. That's when I dug up a gun and practiced shooting so I could take revenge."
Yeah, it's typical. I tried to laugh, but I couldn't. I never succeeded in trying to make a forced smile.
"But doesn't a family mean they were of the same species? I never heard of any humans living around here."
"I haven't told you, have I? I was originally born in West Land. The other side of the great rift."
"West Land... you mean the continent that got wiped out by the Black Aristoteles-----?"
Surprised, she fell silent. When West Land was completely scorched, I was a kid of only 12 or 13. An old story from almost seven years ago.
"By the way, do you still do that job?"
"I do. There isn't any other job opportunity for a halfwit like me. I don't want to be kept under protection as a rare species either. ...what, are you still complaining? They are different from you. Don't be so concerned, it's silly."
"I am concerned. I don't mind others doing it, but it makes me angry to think that you of all people are killing angels everyday. Hey, why do you hunt angels?"
--------That’s because I’m twisted.
“…it's my job, I can't help it.”
I said that without looking at her eyes. She gave me a cold look, seeing through my lie.
"You're right. You've quit thinking. That's why you don't feel any pain. But, on the other hand, you don't feel any happiness either. You never have fun by recalling the past either. Your life must be like the machine you use. That's why you need to rely on something simple like logical reasoning in order to motivate yourself.
The angel said that with a discontent expression. But what's so wrong with being a machine? A theory that higher life forms have emotions was a real fantasy.
"What's wrong with you today? You seem to be very prickly."
"No kidding. It's because you won't talk to me"
"A drunken angel isn't very appealing."
"What do you mean? I may look like this, but I'm very popular in my home town."
Answering, “Yeah, yeah,” I sipped on my glass. I was supposed to restrain myself tonight, but I'm passing out before her.
The angel asked me her last question.
"Hey, why do you fight?"
That's because I don't want to die.
"Then, why don't you want to die?"
Probably because I want to live.
"Why do you want to live?"
Because I never got to experience anything good.
"...is that so? Needing logical reason in order to live, you're an underdeveloped life form."
After saying that, she left first.
But how can I help it? Because the human race kept on living by their instinct, the world died once. Having to rely on pessimistic reasoning is the only punishment given to the humans who were left behind.