Toaru Hikuushi e no Seiyaku:V2Part1

Chapter 1: Air Hunt Officer Academy (Continued) The sky is a graveyard. Fire and smoke, and thousands of traces of bullets weave a tapestry of hell—airships are the iron coffins thrown into that hell.

A Pilot is merely a particle of iron. Being iron, they feel no fear of death. There is no thrill in shooting down enemies, nor any joy. The only thing they must do is point the nose at the enemy's tail, bring it into the sights, and pull the trigger at a distance where they are sure to hit—that alone.

Air combat is a torture. Performing aerial manoeuvres on the brink of bodies and aircraft shattering—flying as if stitching through the limits of human and airship weight. There is only suffering. The lungs are constricted by the gravitational pull, the muscles continue to creak, and the blood remains in the extremities due to centrifugal force, failing to reach the brain. It would be easier to faint. If that happened, they would surely plunge straight into the sea, and before they could feel pain, be shattered into pieces.

Surviving in air combat means continuing the pain. Endure, shoot down, endure, shoot down— A circle of suffering that does not end until one is shot down and dies.

A Pilot lives, caught in that cruel circle. No matter how much they are an ace, they cannot escape it.

So, why does a Pilot fly through the eternal hell? For their comrades? For the family they must protect? For the future of the nation?

“No.”

With a cheap wine in hand, Karsten Kreischmidt answers his own question. “To rule the skies.”

In his eyes as he speaks this, his only daughter is not reflected. He is looking at the great sky beyond his memories. “Nothing can oppose it, all can do is bow to its might—”

With a glint in his eye, he brings the wine to his mouth. If his right arm had not been lost, that hand would surely have been raised grandly to the sky. “I fly to become the king of the sky.”

What is reflected in Karsten's eyes is only the past self who once ruled the skies of the archipelago. Twelve-year-old Illia Kreischmidt quietly watched her father, who was lost in memories. She knows that her present self does not reflect in her father’s eyes.

Illia lowers her gaze to the old wooden table. A piece of dried bread and a cold can of soup. Her father receives a veteran's pension, but nearly all of it is spent on maintaining the training aircraft. To make Illia an ace, Karsten had, astonishingly, purchased a second-hand twin-seater training aircraft released by the military. The cost of the purchase, fuel, replacement parts, maintenance fees, and hangar fees have become enormous, putting a strain on the Kreischmidt family's finances, reducing dinner to something akin to dog food.

Before school for two hours and after school for two hours, Illia goes to the nearby airfield daily to fly with her father. The footbar has been modified to accommodate a child's legs, allowing for smooth operation. During the flight, her father quietly monitors Illia's piloting from the back seat, pointing out corrections once they land. Despite being harshly scolded and sometimes hit, Illia endures the training in silence.

After a long lecture, Karsten, covered in mud, collapsed onto the table and fell asleep. Illia draped a blanket over her father's back and went out to the backyard.

The cockpit of a discarded fighter was wet with night dew. Karsten had obtained it from the military so she could review her flight practice at home. The front propeller blades were all bent, and with both wings and the tail missing, only the front part of the aircraft lay exposed to the elements.

Alone, Illia removed the rain cover and slipped into the rusted cockpit. Gripping the control stick with her right hand and setting her left hand on the throttle, she closed her eyes and recalled the day’s flight, mentally flying through the skies to reflect what Karsten had taught her in her piloting.

In her imaginary flight, only the aspects of the hellish sky described by Karsten appeared. Though she had no real combat experience, hearing the same stories repeated daily allowed her to vividly envision a battlefield filled with fire, smoke, and bullet traces. The screams of falling airmen, the long trail of black smoke, and the thousands of explosions blooming in mid-air. The wreckage of aircraft that shattered upon being hit in the fuel tank. Friendly airmen approaching enemy soldiers parachuting down, poking their parachutes with their wingtips. The parachutes crumpling, and the enemy soldiers plummeting into the sea with pitiful screams. The black smoke that diffuses over time paints all death in its colour.

Twelve-year-old Illia gripped the control stick of the discarded fighter, flying through that cruel sky with all her heart. —If I lose in this sky.

—Father will abandon me too.

Recalling the manoeuvres from earlier, she kicked the footbar and moved the control stick side to side. She accurately reproduced the pressure pushing against her body within her imagination. —Just like mother abandoned me. If father abandons me…

Illia desperately tightened her grip on the control stick, dodging the rain of enemy fire. —I will be all alone.

Six years ago, her mother left Illia and the family. The gentle arms that used to lift her up were gone, leaving only the harsh training imposed by her father. —To avoid being abandoned by father, I must fly.

Gritting her teeth, Illia painted the sky with the colours of hell. —If I become the “king of the sky,” father will look at me too. —Not my past self, but the me in front of him, reflected like a net.

After shooting down her imaginary enemy aircraft, Illia opened her eyes and looked up at the night sky.

“Why are you a girl?”

“If Only You Were a Boy”

The words that Karsten had thrown at Illia, countless times in drunken stupor, fall from the starry sky. A glimmer of tears forms at the corners of her eyes, which she wipes away with her palm. “Don’t lose,” she encourages herself. —When I become the “king of the sky.” —Father will surely praise me. —I will be acknowledged as a child.

Bitten lips, Illia glares at the night sky and tightens her grip on the control stick. —To avoid being abandoned by Father. —I will become the “king of the sky.”

For the past six years since her mother abandoned her, Illia has etched this determination deep within herself day after day.

So—

Seventeen-year-old Illia opens her closed eyes and gazes at the blue sky. —I cannot lose in this sky to anyone.

The engines of the propeller planes lined up in formation roar to life. The familiar sound of the training aircraft “Gray Fox.” Illia checks the instruments, verifies the responsiveness of the controls, and switches on the radio. The speakers on either side of the instrument panel relay the instructor's orders from the control tower.

“Today, we will conduct a two-on-two mock air battle. Form a pair and cooperate to shoot down the enemy formation.”

“Understood.”

Illia replies through a small microphone positioned at her mouth and connects the engine shaft to the inertial guidance system. The propellers begin to spin, and as she slightly opens the throttle, the sweet smell of burning gasoline envelops the cockpit.

She taxis on the ground and reaches the take-off position. From behind, the aircraft of her senpai, who will be forming a pair with her today, follows closely. She forgets his name. It doesn’t matter; it’s only a formation for today. The speaker crackles.

“It’s an honour to fly alongside a celebrity. Please go easy on me.”

Though Illia is a third-year and one year below him, her previous record in mock air battles has earned her the role of formation leader today. A few journalists await her flight on the ground, eager to report on Illia, one of the “Seven of Eriadore.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She responds with only a courteous greeting to the nameless senpai. It has been two months since the incident with the Eriadore airship's infiltration, yet the seven cadets, including Illia, still attract attention both inside and outside the academy. There is a subtle tone of mockery in the words of the current fourth-year students.

Ground crew signals that it is time for take-off.

Illia presses the brakes and revs the engine. The familiar sound of the internal combustion engine, something she has grown up with. Exhaust flames dissolve into the atmosphere. The heartbeat of the aircraft and her own synchronizes.

The depths of Illia’s eyes take on a calm hue, a steel colour devoid of any emotion. She recites the words she always tells herself before take-off. —The sky is a graveyard. —I am iron. —I am a machine for eliminating enemy aircraft from the airspace. —I am not human. I am a part of a fighter plane.

Illia becomes a lump of iron, releases the brakes, and opens the throttle fully. The aircraft lunges forward with vigour. The landscape outside the windscreen becomes a blur.

Without mediation of thought, her senses capture the moment when the lift accumulated in the wings overcomes gravity. The propellers roar loudly. The sound of the engine is sucked away into the distance.

The ground below recedes, and the airfield beneath her becomes a model, losing its presence. As predesignated, she begins a turn at an altitude of 1,500 meters, waiting for the formation to rise. Before long, a silver-painted aircraft appears behind Illia, moving sluggishly.

“This is Arrow 2, in position.”

Illia’s speaker crackles. She responds. “This is Arrow 1, visual on the enemy aircraft. Turning at the same altitude.”

To her left, about 1,000 meters away, a pair of aircraft painted entirely in blue, the Gray Foxes, flies in formation. Those are today’s opponents. Blue for enemies, silver for allies. Illia confirms this once more. Shooting down a friendly aircraft would lead to significant point deductions and disqualification from the “Ace Race” at the Air Hunt Officer Academy.

Today’s opponent is the fourth-year Murasaki Kagura. She learned this earlier from the bulletin board. Though they cannot communicate via radio, Kagura is surely glaring confidently at her from afar.

When she first transferred from the Akitsu Federation's officer school to the Air Hunt Officer Academy two months ago, Kagura had no real experience in mock air battles. The manoeuvres required in combat are vastly different from normal flying; pulling the stick downward can quickly lead to stalling or mid-air disintegration. Initially, she had been easily out maneuverer by the other students, but as she was undoubtedly a top talent, having never lost in her four years at the officer school, she soon grasped the essentials and began a streak of victories. Recently, even the flying instructors have recognized her as one of the future ace candidates, due to her overwhelming record.

Illia gazes at the enemy aircraft through the windscreen. As expected, Kagura's gaze pierces through from afar, challenging her with a serious intent to compete.

At a horizontal distance of 700 meters, both at the same altitude of 1,700 meters, they turn right in the same circular path, each trailing their own formation. When the enemy’s silhouette cuts across the edge of her wing (when she visually spots the enemy behind her wing), the mock air battle begins.

Gradually, Kagura's blue-painted aircraft, Lance 1, approaches Illia’s wing. For a typical Pilot, this would be a moment to heighten tension, but Illia only becomes more focused. —I am iron. Iron. Iron...

Only that mantra seeps into her mind. Unnecessary human emotions have no place in air combat.

When Illia completely merges with her aircraft as a part, Lance 1’s wingtip cuts across. In that instant, she tilts the control stick. Choosing an immediate head-on engagement, she faces the oncoming Lance 1 straight on.

In an Instant, Four Aircraft Approach

Beyond the shield and windscreen, Kagura’s aircraft rapidly looms larger. As they pass each other, Illia fires paintballs from her 7.7mm machine gun. Upon impact, the special plastic projectile bursts, covering the opponent’s aircraft with paint—a round lacking penetrative capability. The presence or absence of a hit is judged by the instructor aircraft flying above the training area, which communicates the results.

Illia’s speaker does not sound. In other words, there are no hits.

Kagura’s Lance 1, having flown too far back, pulls up to gain altitude. Illia observes that the blue formation, Lance 2, follows suit. She tilts her aircraft and makes a sharp turn to target Kagura’s underbelly.

“Arrow 1, I can’t keep up!”

The panicked voice of her wingman, Arrow 2, comes through the speaker. They are unable to maintain formation, lagging behind in pursuit.

—Whatever.

Illia quickly abandons Arrow 2 and presses relentlessly towards Lance 1. Kagura's aircraft is losing speed, likely due to her attempts to gain altitude. Now is the moment to strike.

She opens the throttle. Realizing Illia's rapid approach, Kagura attempts to twist her aircraft while at 2,000 meters. However, considering the manoeuvrability of the Gray Fox, Illia will surely breach Lance 1’s right flank first.

Illia peers through the sights. The side of the blue aircraft, desperately trying to turn, rapidly approaches her field of vision. —I’ve got it.

Confident of victory, she squeezes the trigger, and at that instant, Lance 2 dives into Illia’s sights to protect Kagura.

“!?”

In a coordinated manoeuvre, Lance 2 suddenly passes right alongside Kagura’s aircraft. The instructor’s voice crackles through the speaker.

“Lance 2, shot down. Withdraw from the battlefield.”

As she looks up and back, she sees Lance 2, now covered in bright red paint, exiting the training area. Lance 1 and Kagura remain unscathed.

—So, the wingman became a shield.

Confirming this fact, Illia realizes that despite being shot down, it was impressive formation flying.

Kagura, having narrowly escaped defeat, immediately targets the lagging Arrow 2 instead of approaching Illia. Recognizing the disadvantage of a two-on-one, she intends to shoot down Illia’s wingman first.

From an altitude of 2,200 meters, Illia again turns and pursues Kagura from above. Ignoring Illia, Kagura reaches above Arrow 2 and begins to dive into its left flank.

“Arrow 1, help me!”

The cry for help from her wingman shakes the speaker, but Illia knows rescue is impossible. The skill gap between Kagura and Arrow 2 is far too evident. Within two turns, Kagura takes the rear position behind Arrow 2 and unleashes a barrage from her machine gun. Vivid red paint stains the tail of Arrow 2.

“Arrow 2, shot down. Withdraw from the battlefield.”

After confirming the instructor’s declaration, Illia launches an attack on Kagura from her superior altitude.

While Kagura is preoccupied with Arrow 2, Illia accelerates, gaining about 300 meters in altitude and prepares to attack. Even if Kagura's skills matched Illia's, holding a higher position in aerial combat is always advantageous. Illia’s victory was secured the moment she abandoned her wingman.

“Lance 1, shot down. Victory for Arrow 1.”

With her gunfire from above dyeing Kagura’s right wing a vivid red, Illia changes her expression not one bit, tilting the control stick as she heads for the airfield.

Today was more challenging than usual, but there was no echo of victory. —I am iron. —I feel no pain or sorrow. —I feel no joy.

Reciting her father Karsten’s teachings in her heart, Illia safely lands at the airfield. The cadets watch Illia return to the pilots’ waiting area without applause or cheers, merely observing from a distance. Journalists approach Illia, and photographers flash their cameras, but she maintains her usual expressionless demeanour, responding to no one as she reports the day’s mock battle outcome to the flying instructor.

Meanwhile, after landing, Kagura approaches a group of cadets watching the outcome of the mock battle and stops in front of one boy.

“I’m so frustrated! Kiyoaki, comfort me!!”

With a very serious expression, she clings tightly to the body of Sakagami Kiyoaki, a third-year student at the Air Hunt Officer Academy.

“W-Wait, Kagura!”

Kiyoaki’s hair stands on end as he tries to push her away, but Kagura furrows her brow, tightening her embrace with an expression of utmost frustration.

“I fought seriously, but I still lost! This is the shame of a samurai; I can’t live like this anymore!”

With a face that seems about to cry, she clutches the back of Kiyoaki's head with one hand, pulling him close as if he were a stuffed animal.

“Get off me, Kagura!”

Kiyoaki flails his arms, but to Kagura, he is her favourite plush toy. Repeating her frustration and disappointment, she plays with him roughly.

“Hey, Kagura, I want to try that too! I was the shield back there, remember?”

From the side, Reiner Beck, a third-year student, looks at Kiyoaki enviously. Kagura regains her usual dignified expression and turns her face towards Reiner while still hugging Kiyoaki.

“You did a perfect job as a wingman, Lance 2. However, I find hugging you physiologically uncomfortable. While Kiyoaki is a cute, cuddly toy, I can feel the typical teenage boy’s sexual desire coming from you.”

She states this plainly, resting her chin on Kiyoaki's head, continuing to lament about her frustration and sadness.

“You really say some horrible things while looking so dignified. It hurts! I risked myself to protect you, Kagura…”

Kiyoaki’s face turns bright red, and he struggles to break free from Kagura's grip.

“Illia has been flying fighter planes since she was a child and has experience in mock battles, so it can’t be helped… Kagura, you shot down one plane and put up quite a fight; that’s impressive.”

“Put up a fight is not good enough! If that were real combat, I would be dead! Ugh, I’m so frustrated, sad, and pathetic…”

Usually calm and collected, it seems Kagura is quite competitive. This time, she expresses her frustration by tightening her grip on Kiyoaki’s neck.

“Get off me, Kagura!”

Kiyoaki moans, waiting for Kagura's emotions to settle down.

In late October, on an Akitsu afternoon, the signature training of the Air Hunt Officer Academy, the “Mock Air Battle,” proceeds smoothly amid the students’ enthusiasm and excitement. The records of the top twenty students are posted on the bulletin board before the control tower, igniting the competitive spirit among the 140 students in the flight department.

So far, Illia is far ahead in first place. With a record of 24 wins and 1 loss out of 25 battles, and an astonishing 33 aircraft shot down, she stands out significantly. The second-place fourth-year student, Balthazar Grim, has a record of 16 wins, 3 losses, and 8 draws from 27 battles, making Illia’s strength unparalleled. In mock battles between students, it is common for neither side to score due to time running out or ammunition depletion, resulting in draws. Continuing to secure clean victories is a difficult feat, but Illia has never had a single draw; she has continuously won alone.

“Illia, you’re too strong. It’s really amazing…”

Freed from Kagura's grasp, Kiyoaki sits by the runway, watching the other students’ mock battles, and casually talks to Reiner, who gazes at the sky lazily.

“She’s a biological weapon specialized for air combat. She lives to fight in the sky; no one can win against her.”

“She’s trained tirelessly since she was a child, all to please Captain Karsten…”

“Is that okay with you? Your dad is her rival, right? Your records don’t even compare to Illia’s.”

"Yeah... I’m still having a hard time getting used to it...”

Kiyoaki bites his lip, looking slightly frustrated as he watches the aerial combat above. Four students are entangled in a chaotic battle. Compared to Illia and Kagura earlier, their air battle is several notches lower in skill. They fire at each other from ridiculous distances, ascend for no reason, and their turns lack coordination. It’s a fight between amateurs that would result in quick defeat in real combat. Yet, Kiyoaki cannot laugh at them.

His current record is not much different from theirs.

“I managed to break through enemy lines with the Eriadore and successfully land at night, gaining attention from the higher-ups, but it feels like I’ve completely ruined it with these mock battles. You probably aren’t cut out for being a fighter pilot.”

Reiner bluntly says this, and Kiyoaki can’t retort. The results speak for themselves.

Kiyoaki's record stands at 11 battles, 2 wins, 0 losses, and 9 draws. He has not shot down a single enemy, placing him 66th out of 140 students.

Considering that he transferred in midway, it’s still an average record. While he can take pride in not having lost, the number of wins is meagre, and most matches have exceeded the 20-minute time limit, ending without a decisive conclusion. His two wins came from colleagues in the same formation shooting down enemies, not from Kiyoaki’s own skill.

“It’s pretty rough to have worse results than me. Your dad, the ace, is probably crying in the afterlife.”

Reiner continues to say worse things, and Kiyoaki can only let out a frustrated groan in response. Reiner, despite everything, manages to handle things well, with a record of 21 battles, 10 wins, 5 losses, and 6 draws. One of those wins is a big trophy from Illia. Reiner claims, “I fired randomly, and a stray bullet hit her,” but regardless, he is the only one in the flight department to have beaten Illia, landing a respectable 17th overall.

“N-No, it’s just a matter of getting used to it. You have more experience in mock battles than I do...”

He struggles to come up with excuses, fully aware that it isn’t just that.

Why can’t he win in air combat? —It’s not suited for me...

He thinks to himself. He has brought enemy aircraft into his sights many times, but embarrassingly, he can’t pull the trigger. Whenever he tries to shoot, his hands and feet begin to tremble.

—I can’t shoot a person.

He knows well that this is a weak mindset. Such thinking is unfit for a soldier. Shooting down enemy soldiers is a fundamental duty of a soldier, and if he can’t do that, he has no business being at the officer school.

His mind understands, but his body does not follow. As the enemy aircraft grows larger in his sights, the trembling in his limbs intensifies, causing him to miss the fleeting opportunity to shoot down the enemy.

If he’s told he isn’t suited for this, he might agree. Yet, he doesn’t want to give up on flying a single-seat fighter. He wants to become a great Pilot like his father, the ace of the Akitsu Federation, Masaharu, or like his mentor, the “Holy Knight” Akmed. If he can’t achieve that, the dream of destroying Urano will remain just that— a dream.

Yes. He entered the officer school to crush Urano. He has not forgotten the invasion of Messus Island by Urano three years ago in July. His beloved sister, Yumiko, died shielding him from the gunfire of Urano’s ace, the black leopard “Karnasion.” His parents sacrificed themselves as decoys to protect elementary school students from the whims of Urano’s fighter squadrons. Their homeland, Messus Island, is now occupied by Urano, and they cannot return.

To honour the sacrifices of his family.

—I will destroy Urano with my own hands.

A fourteen-year-old boy holds a goal that is far too grand. It’s a dream so childish that no one would take it seriously, yet Kiyoaki still earnestly considers how to destroy Urano.

The most realistic means would be— —I will become an officer in the Akitsu Federation military.

If he can rise to the rank of general—major general or lieutenant general—he would be able to command a large army at his discretion. He doesn’t know how many years it will take, but eventually becoming a general to lead an attack against Urano and annihilate them is the most realistic path.

To achieve that, he must first graduate from the Air Hunt Officer Academy with excellent results. Most military officers who rise in rank in the Akitsu Federation come from the top ranks of the officer school. No matter how talented one is in practice, those with poor grades at the academy never rise in the Akitsu military.

In August, when Kiyoaki and the others, known as the “Seven of Eriadore,” achieved a breakthrough in enemy lines while piloting the Eriadore, they garnered significant attention from the public. They were even invited to dine with senpai officers of the St Vault military, where they had the chance to have their faces and names remembered. This was a promising first step toward their grand dreams.

However, Kiyoaki has stumbled significantly in the second step—his mock air battles.

No matter how good the first attempt was, if he falls in the next, it’s all for naught. The long-distance race to rise above his classmates suddenly turns into an unfavourable development. To fulfill his grand goal, he wants to defeat Illia and take the top spot in the mock battles.

Kiyoaki gazes up at the vast sky. Amid the magnificent blue, he can see the smiles of his parents and sister shimmering through. Even after three years, tears fill his eyes every time he recalls them. Not a day has passed that he hasn’t regretted and mourned the irretrievable loss.

To ensure that no one else experiences such sorrow. To eliminate war from this world. —I will destroy Urano.

“Hey, is Kagura going for another match?”

Reiner’s voice breaks Kiyoaki from his thoughts as he looks over to see Kagura boarding the Gray Fox, her anger evident in her posture.

“She probably directly appealed to the instructor. Since the transfers haven’t had enough air battles, they allowed it. You’re not doing enough either; you could easily have three battles a day.”

Students in the flight department are required to complete fifty battles within a year. Since both Kiyoaki and Kagura transferred in midway, they won’t reach the required number unless they participate in multiple mock battles each day.

“Yeah... I want to get a better feel for it first...”

As he watched Kagura take off, shaking off his frustration, Kiyoaki is acutely aware of his own inadequacies. Despite also being a transfer, Kagura is getting accustomed to mock battles, and she will likely rise in rank from here.

—At my current level, no matter how hard I try, I won’t reach Illia’s rank...

Two months ago, when they piloted the Eriadore together, Illia felt within reach, but now she seems immensely distant.

“Hey, is the captain not around? He’s not flying today, right?”

Lost in thought, Kiyoaki hears Reiner’s question from beside him. The captain refers to Balthazar Grim, a fourth-year student. Because he was the captain of the Eriadore during the breakthrough, Kiyoaki and the others still refer to him as the captain even after coming ashore.

“He’s going to a dinner party with the influential people of this island. Mio and Cecil were called along with him.”

“Again? He loves it, doesn’t he? Isn’t he invited to every gathering?”

The so-called “Seven of Eriadore” continue to be widely covered by the media, and they are still well-known on Air Hunt Island, receiving invitations to various parties, receptions, and dinners. Events are often attended by high-ranking officers, politicians, and business figures, making it a good opportunity to connect with influential people. However, simply being students, they find themselves becoming little more than conversation starters for the adults, and Kiyoaki, Reiner, Illia, and Kagura have completely stopped attending.

Only Balthazar continues to engage actively in social gatherings. Although Mio and Cecil dislike going, they possess a charm that catches adult attention and know how to entertain those around them, so Balthazar forces them to accompany him, skilfully navigating the tables at these events.

“The captain is probably thinking about life after graduation. Impressive. Meanwhile, I’m just struggling to complete daily assignments.”

As Kiyoaki looks up at Kagura shooting paint at enemy aircraft, Reiner grumbles.

“Yeah... It seems like he has some goals.”

In Kiyoaki’s mind, a memory from two months ago surfaces, when Balthazar had said something directed solely at him during their discussion about the pros and cons of night landings in front of the Chandler Fortress.

“I can’t die in a place like this. There are things I must do for the rest of my life.”

What he aims for remains unclear. Yet it seems Balthazar, like Kiyoaki, harbors a goal that is far too great, and he works daily to achieve it.

That’s amazing. That’s admirable. Kiyoaki genuinely thinks this. In contrast, he is struggling to pull the trigger against enemy aircraft.

“I feel pathetic...”

As Kagura paints the body of an enemy aircraft bright red, soaring into the sky in triumph, only a sigh escapes Kiyoaki’s lips.