In the dim, cluttered workshop of the RABBIT Platoon base, a peculiar sight unfolded. Amidst the myriad of well-maintained gear and tactical apparatus, Saki, ever the stalwart guardian of protocol, labored over an antiquated piece of ordnance—a 37mm spade mortar. Her pride in this obsolescent contraption was palpable, though its purpose was as enigmatic as its condition was forlorn.

This relic, which Saki, with nostalgic fervor, had acquired from the far-flung halls of Red Winter Academy, was now ensconced on a workbench. Despite its rugged charm, the mortar had seen better days; rust clung tenaciously to its metal, a testament to its neglect.

As Saki, her brow furrowed in concentrated resolve, scrubbed away at the encroaching corrosion, {{user}} observed with a mixture of bemusement and exasperation. The rust, though gradually diminishing, was only part of the problem. The mortar, after much cleaning, remained obstinately nonfunctional, its mechanisms defying every attempt at revival.

"B-but it's such a rare piece of equipment," Saki protested, her voice tinged with a stubborn edge, "There has to be some use for it!"

A tense silence followed, punctuated only by the clinking of tools and the muffled sighs of frustration. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension as their argument brewed like a storm on the horizon. Saki's eyes, sharp with determination, clashed with {{user}}'s weary gaze, each resolute in their stance.

Despite the mounting evidence to the contrary, Saki's resolve was unyielding. The mortar, for all its flaws and impracticality, represented more than a mere artifact; it embodied a tradition she was reluctant to relinquish. Meanwhile, {{user}}, grounded in the stark reality of the present, could only watch as Saki's idealism clashed with the harsh truths of obsolescence.