A Certain Pilot's Nocturne, Vol. 1

A Certain Pilot’s Nocturne.

By by Koroku Inumura.

Illustrations by Haruyuki Morisawa.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1: Yuki

Chapter 2: Misora

Main Characters

Takeo Chijiwa. Squadron leader of the aircraft carrier Unkaku Air Squadron. 22 years old. A non-commissioned officer aviator who rose through the "Yokaren" training program. Special Lieutenant. Ace of the Amatsukami Navy. Worked in a coal mine as a child.

Yuki Yoshioka. Daughter of a Levamme father and an Amatsukami mother, making her a "Bastard." 12 years old. Dreams of becoming a singer. She has blonde hair.

Shinichi Hasami. Squadron leader of the aircraft carrier Unkaku Air Squadron. 22 years old. An officer aviator. Lieutenant. Diligent and stubborn.

Heisuke Sugino. Belongs to the Unkaku Air Squadron. 19 years old. Chijiwa's wingman. A strong, physically proud young warrior.

Seagull. Charles Karino, a pilot of the Levamme Empire, and Chijiwa's rival

Taichi Matsuda. Belongs to the Unkaku Air Squadron. 19 years old. Chijiwa's wingman. A lean and intelligent man.

Misora Mizumori. A national singer of Amatsukami. 20 years old.

Illustrations

World State

Prologue

The Seagull is loved by the sky.

The sky is on the Seagull's side. The atmosphere informs him of the enemy’s position, and the bullets fired at him are blown away by the wind, disappearing into the wake of his flight.

The will of the sky protects the Seagull.

Otherwise, it would be impossible for a human to perform such evasive manoeuvres.

It’s like divine intervention. There’s no way I can bring down the Seagull with my skills──.

As Shinichi Hasami, the squadron leader of the Unkaku's air group, peered through the torrential rain that battered the windscreen, he heard a whisper in his mind.

Shaking his head, he tried to shake off the delusion.

Don’t let yourself be plagued by weakness.

We have the advantage in numbers, aircraft performance, and armament.

Fourteen single-seat fighters, Shinden, are chasing the Seagull.

Using the advantage in speed, they rain down 30mm machine gun fire from all directions, cutting off the escape route, forcing a change in course, and then anticipating the evasion to deliver another barrage of bullets.

There’s no way the Seagull can escape in this situation. Within minutes, the Seagull and the future empress will bloom like a blood-coloured flower on the surface of the sea. If, by some miracle, they don’t──the responsibility lies with me as the squadron leader.

Driving himself onward, Hasami peered through the OPL targeting sight.

Beneath the cumulonimbus cloud──.

The greyish-blue aircraft, flying just above the rain-smeared ocean, loomed larger in the spider-web-shaped reticule. The Seagull had no choice but to fly at an altitude of 10 meters. Hasami understood that. If the pilot trailing the Seagull from above tried to pursue, they risked crashing into the sea. The only way to bring down the Seagull now was to fly at the same altitude. And the Shinden squadron led by Hasami had the skill to do so.

Through the veil of silver rain, the silhouette of the future empress, Fana del Moral, seated in the rear seat, faintly appeared. The mission was to shoot down this girl into the Central Sea, indefinitely postponing her wedding to Prince Carlo and completely demoralizing Levamme. It’s cruel, but it’s war, and there’s no other way. If the Seagull managed to break through to the Central Sea, and the national wedding took place, it would serve as the rallying cry for Levamme’s counteroffensive. In the six months since the war began, morale has only been rising, and allowing the wedding to happen would deal a severe blow. The fate of the entire Amatsukami now rests on this moment. There’s no room for unnecessary pity.

Becoming a machine built solely to shoot down the enemy, Hasami closed in with his aircraft.

The wings of the enemy aircraft, the Santa Cruz, filled the targeting reticule.

He was within lethal range. He could almost see the terrified expression on the girl in the rear seat.

Hasami silently prayed and, after mentally clasping his invisible hands together, pressed the 30mm machine gun trigger to the side.

The firing port on the fuselage roared to life. Thick, crimson tracers sliced through the downpour, extending toward the tail of the Santa Cruz, reaching out with fiery tongues toward the helpless future empress.

And then──.

A spray erupted from the surface of the sea.

The windshield was suddenly obscured by a film of water.

The Santa Cruz, which should have been blown to pieces, was nowhere to be seen.

Through the targeting sight, there was only the endless ocean, hammered by rain.

"Impossible."

Hasami muttered unconsciously, his eyes scanning all directions.

The Seagull had somehow slipped away and was now skimming just above the sea far ahead on his left.

The following aircraft pursued. Just like Hasami, they used their speed advantage to position themselves above and behind the Seagull, closing in for a kill shot, but the Seagull seemed to predict every move. With perfect timing, it glided and evaded the storm of bullets.

The "King of the Skies," with 14 Shinden aircraft, couldn’t bring down a single reconnaissance floatplane.

──The Seagull is loved by the sky.

Once again, the whisper caressed Hasami’s ear.

His vision was swallowed by the rain. Visibility was too poor. He couldn’t see the Seagull’s tail anymore…

Suddenly, a bolt of golden lightning, accompanied by the roar of the heavens, flashed in front of Hasami, zigzagging across the sky.

Blinded, he cursed the ferocious storm. He could barely see the sea.

Straining his burnt retinas through the rain, the Seagull was gone.

"Where is it?"

He panicked. Not only had the Seagull disappeared, but so had the other aircraft that had been flying with him.

All he could see was a curtain of torrential rain. The ink-black sea churned violently as it was pummelled by large raindrops.

This rain was extraordinary. The drops even seeped through the canopy.

It was as if the clouds, the sea, the rain—everything in this airspace—were aiding the Seagull.

──Have we… failed to track our target?

Impossible.

The Levamme crown prince had carelessly sent out a telegraph message, which had been decoded, allowing an entire fleet to lay a net in the Seagull's path. The flying fleet had been poised to strike with an impenetrable wall of steel and the "King of the Skies" Shinden waiting for their hapless prey. It was not a net that a sluggish reconnaissance plane with floats could break through alone.

And yet, the Seagull had slipped through Hasami's fingers and was about to achieve a feat that no one had ever accomplished.

──A solo flight across enemy territory, breaking through the Central Sea, 12,000 kilometres!

That sentence burned into his brain. The humiliation welled up inside him. However, no matter how much he wandered through the storm, the Seagull was nowhere to be seen.

Soon, they would drift out of the radio guidance range of the aerial carrier. Once outside of it, a single-seat fighter without a navigator would be unable to return to the carrier, and with no power, they would be swallowed by the ocean.

“Damn it. Damn it...!”

The frustration leaked from Hasami’s mouth in such vulgar curses. He had to return to the carrier and report this situation to the aviation staff officer and the air group commander. No excuse would suffice. He would accept the scolding and insults, but the hardest part would be the silent ridicule from his colleagues.

He could already hear that guy’s mocking laughter in the back of his mind. They were like oil and water, like the sky and the sea, forever unable to mix, and the thought of being mocked by that troublesome officer was unbearable.

Hasami’s face twisted as he gripped the control stick. If that guy were to laugh at him, he would rather crash into the ocean and die. For a moment, he almost pushed the stick forward for real, but then reconsidered. Whether he died or not, that guy would probably still laugh at him. With that realization, he turned his distorted face back towards the airspace where the carrier awaited.

The base of the cumulonimbus clouds was endlessly dark and cold, as if reflecting Hasami’s gloom.

“You’re saying you let him escape?”

In the second floor of the aviation command room on the Amatsukami Aerial Corps' standard carrier Unkaku, the aviation staff officer and the air group commander lined up in front of Hasami, their faces filled with disbelief.

“Fourteen Shinden fighters together, and you couldn’t shoot down an unescorted seaplane?”

Hearing it said out loud made him painfully aware of how absurd the situation was.

Standing rigidly at attention, Hasami bit his lip so hard that it bled, then opened his eyes wide and puffed out his chest.

“It’s entirely my responsibility.”

“I want to hear the details. What happened?”

“There were no problems on our end. There was a cumulonimbus cloud in our path, and the enemy pilot was exceptionally skilled. That’s all.”

The two officers exchanged glances, and then the air group commander spoke.

“The pilot entrusted with flying the future Levamme empress across the Central Sea wouldn’t be an average one. But even so… it was a seaplane, wasn’t it? And the person sitting in the back seat didn’t even know how to fire a machine gun, just a mere weight. To think you couldn’t shoot down such an enemy…”

Tears of blood flowed from Hasami’s heart. He regretted not plunging into the sea after all.

The commander was right. Failing in a pursuit that should never have failed.

“I should die to atone.”

The honest thought slipped out of Hasami’s mouth.

“There’s no such practice in the navy. Don’t lump us in with the army. Rather than dying to apologize, fight and live.”

“...Yes, sir... I was careless.”

“However, it seems we’re dealing with a tougher opponent than we expected. If fourteen planes couldn’t bring him down… what now?”

The air group commander answered the aviation staff officer’s question.

“There are occasionally such monstrous aviators who emerge on the battlefield. They rule the skies with abilities beyond human limits, as if born for aerial combat…”

“Hmm,” the aviation staff officer snorted, directing his distant gaze out the window, looking down at the clouds drifting below at an altitude of 2,000 meters.

“If there’s such an ace of aerial combat, we have one of our own, don’t we?”

Both the air group commander’s and Hasami’s expressions twisted bitterly at the same time.

“Yes, we do. But…”

“He’s… not exactly the right person for such an important mission.”

The aviation staff officer quietly asked, receiving their weak responses.

“Hasami. What do you think? Can Chijiwa bring down the Seagull?”

Hasami felt his stomach churn with humiliation. Words of scorn and insults against him welled up from the depths of his mind. He hated him, but he couldn’t give a careless answer to the staff officer’s question.

He gave his honest opinion.

“If Lieutenant Chijiwa… yes, he could bring down the Seagull.”

“Are you certain?”

“...Almost certainly. However… the lieutenant is, to say the least, very problematic as a person…”

The air group commander finished Hasami’s interrupted sentence.

“His skill is undeniable. No one in the Amatsukami or Levamme could defeat him in aerial combat. But he has a terrible disregard for military discipline… He’s like a child; he doesn’t even listen to me.”

“He’s not someone who fights for the greater good. That man… he can’t tell the difference between modern warfare and a samurai duel!”

“If he can bring down the Seagull, I don’t care if he’s a relic from the past. We’ll make use of him.”

At the aviation staff officer’s resolute words, his subordinates’ shoulders drooped. The air group commander, his eyebrows drawn together, gave orders to Hasami.

“Go fetch Chijiwa. I’ll instruct him personally.”

“...Yes, sir.”

Dragging his heavy feet, Hasami left the aviation command room.

Thinking about where Chijiwa might be on the carrier Unkaku, he decided to check the hangar first.

Descending the stairs from the upper deck, the cold darkness awaited. More than eighty propeller fighters, bombers, and attack aircraft were lined up on the lifeless concrete floor. The maintenance crews were already replenishing the hydrogen batteries of the Shinden fighters that had just returned. The Shinden stood a head taller than the other planes, making them easy to spot. In the amber light of the bulbs, Hasami wove his way through the tightly packed Shinden, searching for Chijiwa’s beloved aircraft.

He soon spotted it—a caricature of a Beagle dog, mocking him from the nose of the plane.

Every time Hasami saw it, deep wrinkles furrowed between his brows.

Normally, you’d expect a tiger, a leopard, or a hawk—something more dignified—painted on the nose. Why did that man choose to adorn his beloved plane with such a ridiculous-looking Beagle? It might be acceptable if he’d shot down one or two planes as a joke, but Chijiwa was the ace of aces with 69 confirmed kills in the six months since the war began. He was a hero admired by the children of Amatsukami, and for the sake of boosting morale, he should have painted a beast that would look good on the front page of the newspapers.

Once, Hasami had asked Chijiwa about the origin of the Beagle.

“It’s my good luck charm.”

With his usual brusque tone, Chijiwa had said only that, maintaining his stony expression and saying nothing more. Even when Hasami pressed for details, he wouldn’t give any response, instead criticizing Hasami’s aerial combat skills. Hasami had fallen into the provocation, getting worked up, and the conversation about the Beagle had been forgotten.

One of Chijiwa’s aircraft mechanics was in the cockpit, cleaning after removing the instruments. Hasami shouted from outside.

“Where’s Chijiwa?”

The young mechanic, his face covered in engine oil, popped his head out of the cockpit and looked around.

“Isn’t he under the wing?”

Hasami looked under the folded wing of the Shinden. The tall Shinden's wings were high enough that it was obvious no one was there.

“He’s not!”

Feeling like he was being mocked, Hasami’s voice rose instinctively.

“He was checking the landing gear earlier, so he might be in the crew quarters.”

Receiving the mechanic’s apologetic reply, Hasami marched towards the crew quarters, his shoulders tense with anger. He had never heard of an officer who personally maintained their own aircraft, but Chijiwa preferred doing such things.

Passing through the lowered deck and walking down the cramped corridor, Hasami continued. The interior of the standard carrier Unkaku was a labyrinth, with the upper, middle, and lower decks divided into countless sections by bulkheads and Armor walls. In the “sunless section,” which would be submerged below the waterline when the ship touched the sea, was where the crew quarters of the Unkaku air group were located. Aviators straightened up and saluted as Hasami passed. As an officer aviator, Hasami was the superior of the aviators stationed in this area.

The Amatsukami Navy had distinct divisions between “officers,” “non-commissioned officers,” and “enlisted personnel.” Graduates of the Naval Academy became officers, starting their military careers as second lieutenants, while aviators from the flight preparatory school, or "Yokaren," began as non-commissioned officers, and no matter how skilled they were in flight, they couldn’t disobey an officer’s orders.

──Usually.

Hasami bit his lip.

Chijiwa was an exception, a “special lieutenant” who had risen from non-commissioned officer status. He was technically of lower rank than a pure officer aviator, but he laughed in the face of such conventions. Even in front of others, he had no qualms about mocking the flight skills of the officers. It was intolerable for the officer aviators, but since no one could actually defeat Chijiwa in the air, they couldn’t complain. His combat record was simply too overwhelming.

In the six months since the war began, Chijiwa had recorded 69 confirmed kills, making him the ace of aces. The second-highest score was 32, making his record stand out even more.

Chijiwa had built his score primarily in air superiority battles over San Martilia. Assigned to the “Takazuka Airfield” squadron, established by the Imperial Amatsukami Army near the border of San Martilia, Chijiwa participated in daily air battles against the Levamme Royal Army Eastern Expeditionary Division. Day after day, interception battles and air superiority missions were fought, and against the Royal Army’s Aires II fighters that arrived in large numbers, Chijiwa demonstrated his peerless combat prowess.

The “sword” that allowed Chijiwa to dominate the skies was the Amatsukami’s latest single-seat fighter, the Shinden.

Designed by a Levamme engineer, who remarked that it had “skipped two necessary stages of aircraft evolution,” this masterpiece far outclassed the Aires II in maximum speed, range, armament, climb rate, and manoeuvrability. The Imperial Army's attack squadrons, protected by the Shinden, bombarded Royal Army fortresses and airfields with ease, while the Royal Army’s attack squadrons, unable to overcome the Shinden, saw their strength whittled away day by day. The Levamme side painfully learned the critical importance of advanced single-seat fighters in determining the outcome of the war.

Already a formidable machine, the Shinden became unstoppable in the hands of Chijiwa Takeo, a prodigy of aerial combat. The rumour of the “Mad Dog” Beagle spread across the entire Royal Army stationed in San Martilia, and within three months of the war's start, some Royal Army aviators began bailing out of their Aires fighters as soon as they spotted the Beagle.

Why was Chijiwa so strong?

Hasami had discussed that topic with the aviation staff officer of the Unkaku air group.

His eyesight allowed him to spot enemy planes 20 kilometres away in the sky, his body could withstand stronger G-forces in dogfights than anyone else, he had the physical strength to handle the heavy control stick of the Shinden during acceleration, he had the muscle sensitivity to detect the structural limits of the plane through the stick’s vibrations, continuing to fight at the edge of disintegration, and he had the mathematical ability to ensure that his 30mm bullets, which tended to fall short of the target, reliably hit the enemy (he factored in the wind on the battlefield, the speed difference between his and the enemy’s aircraft, the distance, altitude, and the positional relationship in three-dimensional space). Even without a navigator, his navigation skills allowed him to fly solo over the ocean──endurance, quick reflexes, sharp instincts, and intelligence──he possessed all the abilities required of a fighter pilot, and yet that wasn’t all. These abilities could be honed with effort. What made Chijiwa a once-in-a-century pilot, a treasured asset of the Imperial Army, was his unparalleled “intuition,” something that couldn’t be developed through training.

Countless times, Chijiwa had found hidden enemy planes in the clouds, uncovered decoy formations, and successfully carried out solo reconnaissance flights at night in a single-seat fighter, which was thought to be impossible. These feats depended neither on physical nor mental abilities, but rather, they were closer to “superhuman” abilities. No enemy plane that faced Chijiwa could ambush him from the clouds, escape using the clouds, or flee at all. No matter how much they tried to evade, they would inevitably be caught and shot down by 30mm machine gun fire at point-blank range, plunging into the sea.

No one could beat him in a direct confrontation, nor could they hide or escape──. That was why Royal Army aviators who encountered the “Mad Dog” Beagle often bailed out on the spot.

And his “intuition” only sharpened with each battle.

Nothing sharpened an aviator’s skills like real combat. The more air battles he experienced, the more Chijiwa learned from the sky, constantly honing his abilities. In the six months since the war began, Chijiwa had logged more than 1,200 flight hours. In contrast, the Levamme Royal Army was mass-producing new aviators with just 300 hours of flight time and sending them to the battlefield, meaning there was a skill gap between Chijiwa and the Royal Army aviators equivalent to the difference between a second-dan and seventh-dan in kendo.

However, with each passing air battle, Chijiwa’s eccentricities became more pronounced. He had disobeyed orders from his superiors more than a dozen times, walked on his hands while living on the ship, slept standing up, kicked a pompous military doctor, challenged his superiors’ air combat strategies—his behaviour was utterly unrestrained. The upper brass wanted to punish him, but Chijiwa’s combat skills were so exceptional that they couldn’t afford to lose him, and now, a sense of “well, that’s just Chijiwa” had started to permeate the Unkaku.

──He’s skilled, but inside, he’s still a child.

Hasami muttered this complaint with a sigh as he searched for Chijiwa in the crew quarters. The smoke from cigarettes lingered in the light of the bare lightbulbs. The heavy scent of sweat and heat filled the room, and somewhere nearby, the sound of music from a phonograph could be heard.

“Well, if it isn’t the squadron leader! What an honour for you to visit such a dingy place!”

A shirtless aviator, holding a can of beer, gave Hasami a cheerful salute. Though it was a half-hearted gesture for an officer, Hasami didn’t mind the informal camaraderie of his subordinates. He pulled a cigarette from his chest pocket and handed it to the aviator.

“Is Chijiwa here?”

“Oh, the Special Lieutenant? He’s over there, enjoying some music!”

The man, clearly pleased to have received some officer-grade supplies, pointed with his fingers toward the corner from where the music was playing.

In the dim light──

Chijiwa was hanging upside down from the top rail of a triple bunk, his bare torso swinging. To his sides, his two wingmen, Sugino Heisuke and Matsuda Taichi, also shirtless, were similarly hanging upside down. In front of the three of them was a phonograph, from which Mizumori Misora’s jazz vocals flowed.

──Enemy music, no less.

Hasami’s brow furrowed even more. This music had been brought to Amatsukami through the Levamme territory of San Martilia about half a century ago, but it was now banned throughout the country—no broadcasts, no sales, no listening. Yet Chijiwa had the audacity to play enemy music openly on the carrier. Hasami couldn’t understand why Chijiwa would deliberately provoke his superiors in such pointless ways.

Mizumori Misora was a national icon. With her beautiful black hair, strikingly chiselled features, and graceful figure, she stood out even among Amatsukami's stars. She was the daughter of an upper-class family from Shinso, known for her elegance, modesty, and reserved personality. Her voice was clear and endearing, with a touch of melancholy. Although she had once been a jazz singer, since the war with Levamme began, she was only permitted to sing traditional Amatsukami songs. It felt odd that the brash Chijiwa would be a fan of such a singer, but he would often listen to Mizumori Misora’s songs whenever he had free time.

Hasami secretly liked Mizumori Misora’s songs as well. Or maybe, it wasn’t just the music, but her refreshing presence that attracted him. He had never admitted it, but when she appeared in the tabloids, he would buy them.

──Why does this guy share the same taste as me?

That thought bothered him too. The fact that someone like Chijiwa liked the same music as he did somehow felt infuriating.

Hasami had studied Levamme language as part of his education, so he understood the lyrics. The song went something like this:

If I could fly in the sky, I’d go to the sea where you are,

Asking the seagulls where you might be, crossing many peaks of clouds,

When I find your ship, I’ll quietly rest in its shadow,

Only watching your back, for words would only bring cold responses,

Your gaze is only on the horizon and the endless sky beyond,

So I’ll send you only my prayers.

I love you.

I love you.

It was a heart-wrenching song, like a plea to a distant lover. It made Hasami’s chest tighten slightly. Chijiwa probably couldn’t understand the lyrics, since most people in Amatsukami, including him, couldn’t read or write Levamme. He was probably just enjoying the singer’s voice as if it were an instrument. Into this sorrowful, melancholic song, Sugino’s exaggerated shouting suddenly intruded.

“Sixty...seven...aaagh!”

Simultaneously, all three of them lifted their torsos with just their abs, pressing their foreheads to their knees. Sugino and Matsuda groaned in pain, but Chijiwa, perhaps trying to endure, simply turned bright red without making a sound. His bulging muscles stood out vividly in the amber glow of the naked bulb.

“Sixty...eight...aaagh...!”

“Guh...!! Fnnn...!!”

“............”

“Sixty-nine...!!”

Hasami came to a stop in front of the three upside-down men and looked down at the inverted Chijiwa.

“Chijiwa. I need you. Come to the aviation command.”

Still hanging upside down, Chijiwa, the 22-year-old lieutenant and squadron leader of the Unkaku air group, responded seriously to his colleague.

“I’m in the middle of training.”

Chijiwa often hung upside down. Even when moving through the ship, he would do handstands whenever he could. At first, Hasami thought it was a joke, but Chijiwa insisted it was “training.” He claimed that since pilots sometimes had to fly upside down and scan the ground during flight, it was necessary to train his eyes to view the world that way. Hasami had never heard of such training from any other pilot.

“The aviation staff officer has called for you. Stop your training and come immediately.”

Chijiwa glared at Hasami, still upside down. With a straight face, Hasami stopped the phonograph. The refreshing voice disappeared, leaving only the stifling heat and the thick smell of sweat.

Surrounded by his two officers, Sugino and Matsuda, Chijiwa's wingmen exchanged glances, then nodded and dropped to the floor with a “hiyaah” cry. They quickly stood at attention, saluting Hasami.

“Training has been halted, Lieutenant Hasami!”

“Our apologies, sir!!”

Sugino, a powerfully built young warrior, and Matsuda, a lean and intellectual type, were affectionately known as the “Sugi-Matsu” duo. Both were elite aviators in their teens who had been personally trained by Chijiwa. Without reprimanding them, Hasami looked back down at Chijiwa, who was still upside down.

Chijiwa muttered quietly,

“...Seventy.”

He counted heavily, pulled himself up with a final burst of energy, and pressed his forehead to his knees one last time. Then, with a graceful movement, he grabbed the railing with one hand, pulled his toes free, and landed on the floor. Wiping his sweat with a towel, he turned to Hasami without even looking at him.

“The Seagull escaped, didn’t it?”

He nailed it right away.

Grinding his teeth, Hasami responded,

“...Laugh if you want.”

Chijiwa wiped the sweat from his face, then looked at Hasami with a chillingly cold gaze.

Like a samurai, his long, untied hair was carelessly gathered at the back, his handsome face showing a hint of something fierce, and the faint light in his eyes held a trace of mockery. After wiping down his sweaty torso, he slipped his arms into his flight suit.

His iron-grey eyes locked onto Hasami.

“Was it a good fight?”

Chijiwa rarely spoke more than necessary. Hasami answered bitterly,

“We surrounded it with fourteen planes, but it still got away.”

“Isn’t that just because of your lack of skill?”

Chijiwa’s immediate response stabbed straight into Hasami’s heart. Clenching his teeth until they almost cracked, Hasami glared at his comrade.

“You’ll understand if you try.”

“I look forward to it.”

Chijiwa brushed past Hasami and began walking toward the bridge. Hasami hurriedly followed behind.

“The staff officer will likely give you command of the squadron.”

“He should have done that from the beginning.”

“Do you know why he didn’t?”

“You can’t judge aerial combat from a desk.”

“Orders are issued from the desk.”

“Those orders are useless in the air.”

“That’s why you were taken off the mission.”

As they reached the ladder leading to the upper deck, Chijiwa suddenly turned to face Hasami.

Then, with a smug look beneath his skin, he spoke.

“That’s why you let the Seagull get away.”

“............”

“High-ranking officers don’t understand the subtle nuances of the battlefield.”

With no way to retort, Hasami fell silent. Chijiwa’s blatant disrespect was infuriating, but there wasn’t a single person who could beat him in aerial combat, making it impossible to argue against him.

──I hope you fail too.

Hasami’s inner voice, previously held back, now wished for Chijiwa’s failure.

As they returned to the command room, the aviation staff officer delivered the exact orders Hasami had anticipated to Chijiwa.

“Shoot down the Seagull.”

Bathed in the yellow glow of the setting sun inside the bridge’s command room, Chijiwa, wearing his usual expressionless face, accepted the order without any visible sign of emotion.

“Yes, sir.”

“The Seagull has crossed the Great Waterfall and is hiding among the Sierra Cadiz Islands. Since finding which island it’s on would be extremely difficult, the task force will anchor nearby. Once the Seagull takes off, you are to pursue and shoot it down. The final blow is up to the Shinden squadron. If we allow the Seagull to cross the Central Sea, Levamme will raise the flag of their counteroffensive. There is no room for failure. Remember, the fate of this war depends on this mission.”

“I will shoot it down.”

Despite the aviation staff officer’s intense words, Chijiwa responded in his usual, casual tone.

Neither Chijiwa nor anyone else realized at the time that this nonchalant response would ultimately determine his fate.

Three days later──

The emergency horn blared throughout the Unkaku, which had been anchored off the coast of the Sierra Cadiz Islands.

The sailors, who had been enjoying the peaceful southern sea, were suddenly thrown into a flurry of activity. The launch equipment roared to life, and the standard carrier Unkaku, one of Amatsukami's premier aircraft carriers, began its ascent from the sea. The other aerial ships, which had been forming a 5,000-meter-wide ring, quickly followed, turning the previously calm blue sea into a storm as they ascended into the summer sky. The peaceful quiet of just moments before was replaced by the chaos of battle.

The Unkaku tore through the clouds, rising to an altitude of 3,000 meters, where it could see the silhouettes of the islands far to the east.

“Prepare for immediate sortie, fighter squadron!”

The air group commander’s voice echoed.

The fourteen Shinden aviators, led by Chijiwa, rushed onto the deck. The Shinden planes were already lined up on the rear deck, with maintenance crews performing their final checks. The air group commander wrote the combat plan on a blackboard and then issued a firm order to Chijiwa.

“As I said before, today’s pursuit mission will be carried out with strict formation flying! The fourteen planes will form a single ring and lure the Seagull into an aerial trap! It will take time, but with your skills, it’s guaranteed that you’ll succeed! The fate of Amatsukami rests on this mission. Independent action is absolutely forbidden. You must all work together to complete the mission!”

“Yes, sir!”

A strong reply came from the fighter squadron. The air group commander glanced at Chijiwa’s face, but, as always, it remained expressionless. Over the past three days, the air group commander had personally explained to Chijiwa the importance of formation combat in modern warfare. He had repeatedly stressed that the era of duels between brave warriors had passed, and that in modern warfare, individuals must act as cogs in a machine, serving the greater good of the entire military. Chijiwa hadn’t reacted at all, but when asked, “Do you understand?” he had answered, “I understand.” Whether he truly understood or not would become clear based on his actions today.

The Unkaku turned into the wind. The ship's speed and the wind combined to create a composite wind force of more than 15 meters per second, allowing for take-off. With the wind blowing away his doubts, the air group commander gave the order.

“Fighter squadron, line up!”

The disciplined aviators stood firm against the strong headwind, lining up below the bridge.

The captain of the Unkaku descended from the bridge and walked to the front of the assembled aviators to deliver a brief speech.

“The time has come to demonstrate the fruits of your training. We cannot allow the Levamme crown princess to cross the Central Sea. Whether the enemy’s morale soars to the heavens or sinks to the depths of the earth, this is the turning point. The outcome of the war depends on each and every one of your shoulders. I expect each of you to give your best.”

“Yes, sir!”

The Shinden aviators understood the gravity of the situation. Amatsukami's national strength was less than one-tenth that of the Levamme Empire. The longer the war dragged on, the clearer the disparity in strength would become, and Amatsukami would be at a disadvantage. To achieve a quick victory and early peace, they had to shoot down the future Levamme empress today, crushing the Levamme people's morale to the ground.

The signal for take-off was given from the bridge.

“Fighter squadron, take off!”

The air group commander’s order rang out. The aviators ran toward their Shinden planes, lined up at both ends of the deck.

Chijiwa was first, as the squadron leader. His expression showed not the slightest hint of excitement as he walked with long strides toward his beloved plane, as if he were going for a stroll.

Behind him, Hasami shouted in desperation.

“You understand, don’t you? It’s formation flying! Everyone must work together, do you understand!?”

Without turning around, Chijiwa simply raised one hand. It was a gesture that said, “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

“Don’t act on your own! We’re soldiers, not children fighting in the streets!”

Without even showing his face, Chijiwa climbed the ladder and boarded his Beagle plane. The Shinden’s fixed gear was longer than that of most carrier planes to prevent the tail propeller from scraping the deck during take-off, so a ladder was needed to board. After exchanging a few words with the maintenance crew, Chijiwa quickly checked the instruments.

“Release the chocks! Start the stack!”

After confirming that the maintenance crew had cleared the area, Chijiwa started the hydrogen fuel cell stack. The electricity generated by the stack flowed to the DC motor, and the aircraft began to vibrate.

“Contact!”

The inertia drive shaft connected to the motor, and the tail propeller roared to life. The flaps dropped. The thunderous noise echoed into the summer sky. Chijiwa’s Beagle plane rolled out to the central white line, and with a single motion, he pushed the lever forward.

“Hats off!”

At the air group commander’s call, the officers and maintenance crews below the bridge all waved their hats in unison. Chijiwa gave a small nod of acknowledgment as he passed by, and as he cleared the bridge, his plane lifted off. It was a flawless take-off. The remaining thirteen planes followed one by one, quickly forming two formations of seven planes each in the sky. They disappeared into the distance, heading straight for the combat zone.

Hasami stood silently, watching as Chijiwa and the others disappeared into the sky. His chest buzzed with nervous energy, playing a tune of uncertainty.

“Please, Chijiwa. Just don’t do anything stupid…”

Forgetting his earlier wish for Chijiwa’s failure, Hasami, now as a fellow soldier, simply prayed for the success of the mission. As the captain had said, the fate of Amatsukami rested on this pursuit mission.

Hasami anxiously waited on the deck for Chijiwa’s squadron to return.

The heavy cruisers and destroyers of the task force had already left in pursuit of the Seagull, disappearing beyond the clouds. Earlier, distant gunfire could be heard from the sky, but that had since fallen silent. The Unkaku stood alone, holding its position at an altitude of 3,000 meters, waiting for the Shinden planes to return.

An hour had passed since take-off. By now, the Seagull should have been shot down. Chijiwa wouldn’t repeat the same mistake Hasami had. But then again, the Seagull’s pilot possessed near-superhuman skills. There were plenty of clouds to hide in, and…

Just as these worries swirled through his mind, the familiar sound of propellers reached his ears.

Looking up, Hasami saw the Shinden squadron returning. Noticing them, the Unkaku descended to an altitude of 1,000 meters, increased speed, and adjusted course to approach from downwind. The thirteen planes performed a friendly identification bank as they passed over the Unkaku, then entered the approach course, adopting a three-point stance and hooking onto the deck’s arresting cables to land. As soon as the first Shinden was secured by the front lift, the next plane descended and repeated the process. These highly trained aviators executed the difficult task of landing on the aircraft carrier with flawless precision.

However, Hasami’s face grew more and more tense. The Beagle plane, with its goofy insignia, was missing.

He saw Sugino, the first to land, walking toward him at a brisk pace. Unable to wait for Sugino to reach the bridge, Hasami ran to him.

“What happened to Chijiwa!?”

Sugino, his face tense, stood at attention and responded.

“Lieutenant Chijiwa stayed behind!”

“Stayed behind!? What do you mean!?”

Sugino gulped, then composed himself before giving his report.

“At first, we surrounded the Seagull with fourteen planes, but no matter how long we chased it, we couldn’t shoot it down…! Finally, Lieutenant Chijiwa grew impatient and ordered us all to stand down! He said he would handle it alone!”

Hasami stood there, mouth agape, as his face turned pale. Then, he shouted in anger.

“I gave strict orders to maintain formation!”

“Yes, sir! I’m sorry!”

“It’s not your fault!”

“Yes, sir! I’m sorry!”

“What happened after that? Did he shoot down the Seagull!?”

Sugino fidgeted uncomfortably before puffing out his chest and responding.

“We lost sight of it! Right after Lieutenant Chijiwa challenged it to a duel, both planes flew into the clouds, and we couldn’t follow…!”

“What are you doing!!”

“I’m sorry!!”

Hasami ran his hands through his hair, stomped the deck twice, then unleashed another wave of fury at Sugino.

“Why!? Why didn’t you work together with the rest of the squadron!? With fourteen planes, you should have been able to shoot it down without a problem! Why did you need a one-on-one duel!?”

“That’s…!”

As Sugino struggled for words, Matsuda appeared behind him. Matsuda was quicker-witted than the strong but slower-thinking Sugino. He quickly stood at attention beside his colleague and answered in Sugino’s place.

“Forgive my boldness, but even if we all attacked together, we couldn’t shoot down the Seagull! That was Lieutenant Chijiwa’s judgment!”

Matsuda’s voice, filled with frustration, rang out from the depths of his chest.

“The skill difference is too great! Only Lieutenant Chijiwa can shoot down the Seagull! All of us, including Lieutenant Chijiwa, came to the same conclusion, and that’s why it became a one-on-one duel!”

Matsuda’s expression was tinged with a tragic resolve. Hasami clenched his lips as he glared at the young warriors before him.

Sugino and Matsuda weren’t average pilots. They had both been selected from an extremely competitive pool of applicants for the Navy’s flight preparatory program, and after three years of intense training, they had graduated and joined the elite Unkaku air group at the young age of nineteen. Both had been personally trained by Chijiwa, and they were considered the best of the best. If they claimed that the Seagull was an extraordinary opponent, there was no doubt that it was true.

──The Seagull is loved by the sky.

Once again, Hasami heard the voice echo in the back of his mind.

Perhaps Matsuda was right. Even if a group of average pilots worked together, they couldn’t defeat a single genius. That was something that could happen in aerial combat.

──Only a genius can shoot down another genius.

The thought of resignation crossed his mind. It was unreasonable, but that was one of the harsh realities of air combat. Because a propeller plane had such a wide range of manoeuvres, it could be controlled by a skilled pilot as if it were a completely different machine—an eagle or even a chicken. And sometimes, there were those who transcended even eagles and became dragons. Chijiwa and the Seagull were dragons. No matter how many eagles you gathered, they couldn’t defeat a dragon. Just as a turkey could never defeat an eagle, an eagle couldn’t defeat a dragon.

Hasami clenched his fists so tightly that blood began to seep out, and without raising his head, he gave his subordinates the command.

“...Go!”

Sugino and Matsuda saluted and then ran side by side toward the aviation command on the bridge to report. Watching their backs, Hasami looked up at the summer sky.

In the deep blue, carefree clouds floated lazily by.

Had the duel already been decided?

Who was stronger, Chijiwa or the Seagull?

Two warriors loved by the sky, locked in a duel.

A showdown between two dragons in the summer sky.

──I wish I could’ve seen it.

That honest thought crossed his mind.

As an individual who lived in the sky, it was a spectacle he would pay to see. Perhaps Sugino and Matsuda, too, had stopped maintaining formation because they wanted to witness it. In a way, Hasami understood. For warriors who dwell in the sky, a one-on-one duel between chosen champions is a stage they all aspire to. Everyone trains daily with the hope of one day standing on that stage. The same must be true for the Levamme aviators. Chijiwa and the Seagull, representing their respective countries—who was stronger? Everyone wanted to know the answer to that simple question.

However, as a soldier tasked with protecting the nation, Hasami couldn’t condone Chijiwa’s way of life. If his methods were allowed, the military would cease to function. Only when individuals risked their lives for the greater good could the massive machine that was the military fulfill its role.

“You idiot…”

He cursed under his breath and looked up at the sky again. Chijiwa’s return was unusually delayed. There was no way a man like him would lose to a seaplane, but still...he was late.

“He’s here, Lieutenant Chijiwa is back!”

The aviators waiting on the deck for Chijiwa’s return pointed to a section of the sky and shouted.

Hasami, his eyes bloodshot, turned in the direction indicated. Sure enough, the faint sound of propellers could be heard mixed with the wind.

A tiny Shinden wobbled through the air at about 1,200 meters in altitude. However, it was swaying strangely, and something seemed off. Everyone focused their eyes on the tiny aircraft.

“Was it hit…!?”

“It’s the left wing, the tip has been torn off!”

The subordinates murmured in disbelief. It was the first time anyone had seen Chijiwa’s Beagle so badly damaged. Hasami turned and shouted toward the bridge behind him.

“Lower the altitude, prepare for a water landing! He can’t land on the carrier like that, he’ll flip over!”

It seemed the command on the bridge had also noticed. The Unkaku rapidly descended, creating a massive spray as it touched the water.

Piercing through the silver veil that covered the horizon, the Unkaku cut through the air, racing windward, just as it did when flying. Without even the familiar identification bank, the Beagle, dragging its wounded body, entered the landing course. Sugino, standing beside Hasami, muttered in awe.

“Amazing… He’s maintaining balance with just the flaps and ailerons…”

“It’s incredible, but landing like that is almost impossible…!”

The Beagle aligned itself with the ship’s bow, moving into the landing path. Lowering the left wing’s flaps to compensate for the lack of lift, adjusting the right wing’s aileron, and controlling its throttle, it was managing to stay airborne. This alone was an extraordinary feat. But now, Chijiwa would have to perform the delicate task of landing on the narrow deck of an aircraft carrier with only one wing.

Landing a plane with one wing was unheard of.

The deck had been prepared with barricades filled with cushioning material, and medics stood by at both ends, ready for any emergency. All 1,500 crew members of the Unkaku held their breath, watching Chijiwa’s one-winged flight.

“He’s coming down! Prepare for an emergency, but make sure we save Chijiwa!”

Hasami shouted to his subordinates. They all wore serious expressions as they answered firmly. Given the situation, the landing could result in a flip, a bounce, or even a crash. No one knew what might happen, but one thing was certain: Chijiwa had to be pulled from the cockpit safely. No matter how difficult or arrogant he was, Chijiwa was a national treasure of the Amatsukami Navy. He was a once-in-a-century aviator.

The Beagle, heavily tilted, approached.

Both wheels were down. There was no issue with the left wing’s landing gear. Chijiwa’s habit of personally inspecting and maintaining his aircraft was paying off here.

The throttle was reduced, and the plane decelerated in the headwind. For a moment, the plane seemed to hover motionless in the air, then it levelled off with delicate adjustments to the rudder.

With 1,500 crew members holding their breath, the Beagle gently touched down on the deck, as if lounging in the sunlight, with a grace that mocked everyone’s worries. It was a perfect landing, so masterful it seemed almost too easy.

A sigh of relief and admiration escaped from the mouths of the crew, and then, as one, they all rushed toward Chijiwa, including Hasami.

“Lieutenant, are you alright!? That was incredible, a godlike manoeuvre!”

Chijiwa, casually descending from the ladder as if nothing had happened, was immediately surrounded by his subordinates. He nodded silently, his gesture a quiet acknowledgment of their concern. That alone was enough to bring tears of joy to his men as they celebrated their squadron leader’s safe return. Amid their smiles, Hasami’s angry face broke through.

“What about the Seagull!? Did you shoot it down!?”

The crowd fell silent, all eyes now on Chijiwa’s expressionless face.

The air grew tense. The sounds around them disappeared. The aviators formed a circle, their eyes filled with hope and prayers as they gazed at Chijiwa.

For a moment.

Then, shockingly, Chijiwa──

broke into the brightest smile imaginable.

Everyone present gasped.

It was the first time anyone had seen Chijiwa smile.

They had seen plenty of sneers and contemptuous expressions, but never such a pure, clear smile gracing that normally stoic face.

Chijiwa, smiling?

Hit by the sight of something so utterly unexpected, Hasami’s entire body froze in fear. A chill ran down his spine, making his teeth chatter. He wanted to turn away and run from this unfathomable smile, but he forced himself to muster his courage and asked the question once more.

“What happened to the Seagull!?”

Chijiwa’s clear, cheerful smile remained as he answered.

“It got away!”

His response was startlingly carefree and far too innocent.

The atmosphere on the deck froze solid. Everyone surrounding Chijiwa turned pale.

Unfazed, Chijiwa looked up at the sky with an air of triumph and said,

“I was shot by the princess!”

He laughed heartily, a bright and refreshing sound.

Hasami, Sugino, Matsuda, and likely everyone who had ever known Chijiwa, had never heard him laugh like that before.

“I was completely fooled! What a performance, she made me believe she couldn’t shoot! I never imagined she’d let me get so close before firing… she’s quite something, she’s a big one!”

Chijiwa, still grinning broadly, slapped Hasami’s shoulder with infectious enthusiasm.

Hasami’s gaping mouth slowly closed, his face turning pale as he finally exploded with anger.

“Y-you... you let it escape!?”

He grabbed Chijiwa by the collar with both hands, shaking him violently.

“You mean to tell me you failed the one mission we absolutely couldn’t afford to fail!?”

Even as Chijiwa’s neck was throttled, he didn’t stop laughing.

“Haha, that’s right! I lost, I lost, I was beaten fair and square!”

He showed no remorse, accepting defeat like a sportsman who had given his all in a match, laughing as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

A thunderous bolt of rage exploded in Hasami’s temple.

“I told you to follow the formation! You swore you’d shoot it down!”

“Haha, I got outplayed, haha!”

“It’s not funny! You broke formation and challenged her to a one-on-one duel, only to let her escape! What kind of excuse is that!?”

Chijiwa bowed his head slightly, catching his breath, and then, still smiling, he raised his face again.

“I’ll accept my punishment. I don’t mind if I’m demoted from squadron leader. But no matter what, I still want to fly the Shinden.”

“W-what are you talking about…?”

“I’m just not cut out to be a commander. I’d rather go back to being a regular pilot. I don’t mind being your subordinate. I just want to fly freely.”

Hasami was beyond anger; he was dumbfounded. His mouth hung open like a gate held up by a rod, unable to close. The torrent of scolding words he was about to unleash was swallowed back.

He had noticed something.

Behind Chijiwa’s smile──there was something immense lurking.

It wasn’t a fake smile. Chijiwa was genuinely smiling from his heart. But behind that smile, something far more fundamental—something that made up the core of Chijiwa Takeo’s being—was rising, overflowing, and filling the space like an invisible torrent.

Unconsciously, Hasami took a step back, pushed by the force of this presence.

──Haki.

The word echoed faintly in the back of his mind.

This was the spirit only a king of the sky could possess, surging from within Chijiwa’s soul like molten lava, pouring out from behind that smile.

“You…”

Hasami released his grip on his comrade’s collar and managed to mutter only that.

“Is the lecture over? I’ll go make my report.”

Still smiling cheerfully, Chijiwa pushed past Hasami with one hand and walked toward the bridge.

A strong wind was blowing. Just as he reached to open the watertight door, Chijiwa paused for a moment, turned his head slightly, and looked up at the sky.

The rich blue of the summer sky stretched overhead.

But in Chijiwa’s mind’s eye, it wasn’t the sky he saw—it was the Seagull, saluting him.

After the aerial duel had concluded—

Chijiwa, barely managing to keep his plane in the air with a third of his left wing shot off by the future empress, noticed the Seagull approaching from the side.

Chijiwa braced himself, expecting to be gunned down by the Seagull's machine guns. But instead of bullets, what he received was a salute.

For a moment, Chijiwa was taken aback. It was hard for him to believe that a Levamme, so often arrogant and condescending, would offer such a gesture. The only thing Chijiwa could do in response was to twist his mouth into a grimace and return the salute, bitterly.

He then realized it was the second time he'd seen the Seagull's face. During a battle over San Martilia, there had been an exceptionally skilled aviator in an inferior Ares II who managed to hold his own for quite a while. Chijiwa eventually shot him down and circled the pilot's parachute, mocking him openly. That pilot, grimacing in frustration, had been the Seagull.

So then—

──That makes it one win each.

He looked up at the sky, silently addressing the Seagull before turning back. He had to report his humiliating defeat to the aviation command.

──Next time, let's settle this.

A nameless emotion stirred within Chijiwa’s soul. He didn’t know how to calm it, nor did he want to. He just wanted to immerse himself in the strange mixture of humiliation, passion, and warmth.

──I will shoot down the Seagull.

As he repeated that to himself, another surge of determination welled up from within. With a burning resolve rooted deep in his consciousness, Chijiwa walked through the watertight door.

Chapter 1: Yuki

In the rough seas, there was an island that appeared like something that had been spat out of the ocean.

It wasn’t a natural island. The perimeter was reinforced with thick stone walls, and the concrete buildings jutted out to the very edges, their surfaces blackened by the crashing waves. One side of the island was densely packed with grey buildings, while the other half was occupied by coal mines, where a 30-meter-high chimney spewed black smoke like a battleship.

──Battleship Island.

Originally, it was a reef less than 100 meters long. After the discovery of high-quality coal deposits beneath the sea, a large corporation had invested heavily in mining, filling in the surrounding area with waste rock and debris until the surface expanded to 400 meters in length and 130 meters in width. Five thousand coal miners were crammed onto this island, which resembled a battleship, with high-rise apartments of seven or eight stories squeezed together on the limited land.

Among the various misshapen structures, the most prominent was a massive hoist tower rising above the steel and concrete buildings. Over 40 meters tall, this iron structure operated a lift that descended vertically into the deep-sea mining shafts. The entire framework was made of exposed steel beams, with a three-meter-diameter, 28-ton wheel at the top, winding up 600 meters of cable. The heavy, grinding sound of the wheel reverberated across the island, mixing with the crashing waves on the seawall, creating the illusion that a gigantic sea monster was roaring in the nearby waters.

At the mine entrance, dozens of workers stood in line, waiting to descend into the shaft. Their faces were tense and rigid, as the constant threat of collapses or gas explosions made this work anything but carefree.

Among them was Chijiwa Takeo, fourteen years old, staring into the dark, descending shaft. His eyes were devoid of emotion. Although his face was that of a boy, his eyes held an eerie maturity, drained of vitality. It wasn’t unusual for fourteen-year-olds to work in the mines, as smaller bodies were often more suited for the narrow tunnels.

The heavy rumbling of the hoist signalled the arrival of a two-tiered lift. The workers were packed into the small space, barely three tatami mats wide. Covered in coal dust, they pressed rags to their noses, but Chijiwa didn’t so much as flinch.

The lift descended into the dark at eight meters per second. Inside and outside, nothing was visible, not even fingertips. The workers remained silent, only the weighty sound of the hoist tower echoing from far above. Soon they reached the 600-meter depth, where they transferred to a small, steep vehicle called a "jinsha," which followed the coal seams down into the shaft.

The tunnel was like a steam bath, stiflingly hot. Coal dust clung to their skin, and the rumble of the drum cutters carving out the coal seams could be heard over the sound of the vehicle’s wheels on the narrow track.

──This isn’t the place.

Walking with the other workers along the timber-reinforced tunnel after disembarking from the jinsha, Chijiwa heard his thoughts whisper.

He had been hearing that voice more often lately. Shaking his head from side to side, he tried to shake off the illusion.

──This is reality.

He reminded himself, flipping the switch on the heavy battery attached to his waist, turning on the headlamp attached to his helmet. The mining site, called the "cutting area," was illuminated by its yellow light.

At the age of twelve, right after graduating from elementary school, Chijiwa’s father had died from peritonitis. Not wanting to burden his frail mother, Chijiwa had decided to start working. His mother had been fiercely opposed to her only son, who excelled in both academics and sports, giving up on further education, but after much persuasion, they had both come to Battleship Island. It was said that even women and children could find well-paying jobs there, and indeed, they were hired on the very day they arrived, working together in the coal washing operation. Desperate to save money, they worked diligently every day. About a year ago, Chijiwa was promoted to apprentice miner and allowed to descend into the tunnels.

Three months ago, his mother had died from pneumoconiosis. The coal washing job had been too hard on her lungs, it seemed. It was then that Chijiwa realized that this island was a place where the weak couldn’t survive. After crying bitterly over his ignorance, he had cremated his mother’s emaciated body on a neighbouring island. Since then, with no purpose, he had immersed himself in mining labour, turning fourteen just the day before. The only one to celebrate his birthday had been the dog he had raised.

──This isn’t the place.

The voice echoed in his mind again. Clenching his eyes shut, Chijiwa tried to block it out, shovelling coal into the carts and pushing them down the narrow tracks. His face, hands, and feet were black with soot. He could feel the fine coal dust filling his lungs. Each day, every hour spent working in this tunnel chipped away at his life.

──Where else would I go?

He cursed inwardly, hauling heavy carts filled with coal, using every ounce of his strength. His body, his clothes, and his face were quickly stained black, and sweat mixed with coal dust dripped from him. He tried to think of nothing else, focusing only on the task of pulling the carts like a draft horse, spending his young strength in the underground labour.

The people who worked underground were often outcasts—hardened men ostracized from society due to gambling, drinking, or fighting, with many being ex-convicts. Because they spent their days working in the dark, far beneath the surface, it wasn’t uncommon for disputes, thefts, or even fistfights to break out among the workers. Incidents that would normally be considered crimes on the surface could be dismissed as “accidents” underground. The mines had their own unspoken rules. When things escalated, fights between different mining groups could erupt, with tattooed men brandishing knives and causing bloody brawls that resulted in numerous casualties. Those who broke the unspoken rules risked being lynched by the gang leaders, known as the "overseers," so the workers toiled silently, carving coal from the bedrock.

By evening, the shift ended, and the workers were crammed back into the jinsha and the lift, returning to the surface. Every worker was covered head to toe in black dust, indistinguishable from one another. After returning to the surface, they were all herded into one of the two bathhouses designated for miners, where they washed off the coal dust. The floor of the bathhouse turned into a black river, and the tubs became murky black swamps. Some men, not bothering to wash themselves, dove directly into the dirty water, causing fights to break out when others reprimanded them. As the soot-washed bodies clashed, dragon and tiger tattoos emerged from beneath the coal dust. Chijiwa casually splashed some lukewarm water over his hair and body, changed into a shabby shirt and tattered pants, and stepped outside, collecting his meagre daily wages at the counter. As an apprentice, he had to settle for the same low wages as the temporary workers, but if he became a full-time employee, he could earn a better monthly salary.

Stuffing the money into his pocket, Chijiwa entered the tunnel leading to the residential area without saying a word to anyone. The salty sea breeze and the constant sound of crashing waves filled the air. After walking for a while, he emerged from the tunnel into the miners’ living quarters.

To say it "opened up" was a bit misleading, though, as the sight that greeted him was a line of towering concrete buildings crowding both sides of the street. The sky above was cut into a narrow strip by the tightly packed high-rises, making it feel as though he was viewing the world through the slot of a mailbox. Although the sun was setting, its light was blocked by the buildings, and the only way to judge the time was by the fading colours of the sky visible through the gaps.

The mechanical roar of the hoist tower and the sound of crashing waves never ceased, vibrating through the island’s core. On Battleship Island, there was no escaping these two omnipresent noises.

The grey island, made of steel, concrete, and crushed rock, was filled with coal dust-laden, stagnant air. Even the wind didn’t reach here.

──There’s nowhere else to go.

Chijiwa trudged along the narrow path, heading toward the half-underground commissary where he bought a loaf of bread and some milk, then started the long climb up the steep stone steps. Both sides of the staircase were flanked by the same concrete high-rise apartments. The buildings, which seemed to merge with the island’s rocky cliffs, formed a bizarre complex of layered structures. The overcrowding on the island had led to these unique, cramped living spaces. Halfway up the stairs, Chijiwa turned abruptly, stepping onto a balcony jutting from one of the buildings, and swung himself over the railing into a room on the sixth floor. This was his home. It was a homecoming scene that could only exist on Battleship Island, a hyper-dense residential area.

The room was bare, containing only a small stove, a low table, a radio, and a futon. The floor was exposed concrete, with no rugs or cushions. As Chijiwa sat directly on the floor, an old beagle wagged its tail excitedly and greeted him with its tongue hanging out.

“Tareo.”

He had found the stray not long after arriving on Battleship Island. Dirty and with sad eyes, the dog had been wandering around, soaked by the sea, and Chijiwa had felt sorry for it, bringing it home on impulse. At first, the dog had been nervous and prone to biting, but over time, they had become close, and Tareo was now like family.

“Dinner.”

Chijiwa tore off a piece of bread and offered it to Tareo, who wagged his tail and eagerly devoured it, looking as happy as could be. Chijiwa softened slightly, sharing his dinner with Tareo. In the distance, he heard the whistle of a ferry.

As he ate, he turned on the radio. Amidst the static, the voice of an announcer came through intermittently. Chijiwa adjusted the dial, searching for Levamme music. He preferred it to the closed, sombre music of Amatsukami—it was brighter and more open, easier to listen to. However, he couldn’t find what he was looking for, and instead, military songs blared through the speakers. The boisterous, aggressive melodies offered no solace to his emotions, and he quickly switched it off. In the silence that followed, the distant sound of the waves became his music. The sky, already dark, indicated that night was fast approaching.

It was quiet. Leaning his back against the wall and hugging his knees, Chijiwa gazed out the window.

A metallic taste filled his mouth. The dull ache in his chest was like cold lead being poured into his veins.

Whenever he was alone, it was like this. Since his mother had passed, it had gotten worse.

──This isn’t the place.

That whisper came again.

──This isn’t where I belong.

Chijiwa pressed his forehead against his knees, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to block out the voice.

He longed for some kind of melody, something to wash away the lead in his chest and cleanse the coal dust from his lungs. Something clean, gentle.

Then—

Faintly, from somewhere, a song floated through the air.

“...?”

Startled, Chijiwa looked up. The evening shadows were creeping in, but a faint glow still lingered.

He strained to listen. Yes, it was a song.

──A Levamme song...!

The voice of a girl, singing a familiar tune. It was an old song about a girl waiting for a lover who had gone to sea and never returned.

Without thinking, Chijiwa jumped to his feet.

Without hesitation, he vaulted over the balcony and landed on the stone steps. Tareo followed closely behind, wagging his tail as he looked in the direction of the voice.

“It’s coming from above.”

Chijiwa took off running. There was no time to think. It was as if he had found an oasis in the desert—he was drawn to the song. He ran up the long, narrow steps, his breath growing heavy. The high-rise buildings still loomed on either side, hemming him in no matter how high he climbed.

The girl’s voice was faint, carried on the breeze. It was delicate and easy to miss, but there it was, unmistakably, a melody.

“Ha... ha... ha...!”

Without slowing down, he continued to ascend. Few people ever ventured this high. The steps climbed what used to be a hill on Battleship Island, leading to nothing at the top. For those wanting a view, it was easier to go to the rooftop of one of the high-rise apartments. Only a handful of people bothered to make the effort to climb all the way up these steps.

But Chijiwa finally reached the top.

The view opened up before him.

At the very peak of Battleship Island, 135 meters above sea level, the horizon stretched out before his eyes.

The sun had already set, and the sky to the west was tinged with the last traces of daylight.

Before him lay a garden. Once an experimental farm where soil had been brought in to grow crops, it had long since been abandoned, and no one visited it anymore.

And there, beyond the garden, was the source of the song.

“...Ah...”

The golden glow of the fading sunlight bathed the figure of a girl, her back to him.

Instinctively, Chijiwa dropped to the steps and hid, peeking out cautiously from the top of the stairs.

He didn’t recognize the girl. What caught his eye first was the long, golden hair tied up behind her like a horse’s tail, shining with the last light of the day, sending shimmering drops of light scattering around her. Her voice, perfect in its delivery of the foreign song, suggested she was Levamme. She wore a navy skirt and a pale pink blouse—part of the school uniform from the local junior high, meaning she must live on the island. But Chijiwa had never heard of a girl on the island who could sing like this.

Her voice was pure. It felt like it was washing away the coal dust that had settled in his lungs—a fresh, rejuvenating melody.

His chest tightened as if his diaphragm had been squeezed. His heartbeat reverberated through his limbs. A sigh escaped his lips, unbidden. He wanted to listen to this song forever.

Still hiding from the girl, Chijiwa lay back on the sloped stairs.

The sky was deepening into twilight. To the west, the sky still blazed with golden light. Overhead, it was a deep blue, while to the east, the colours of night were beginning to take over, and a constellation of bright stars formed a cross against the darkening sky.

The song seemed to merge with the wings of the birds flying across the sea.

Here, there was only the sky, the birds, and the girl’s song. The quiet of the world deepened, thanks to the melody.

For the first time in his life, Chijiwa felt a sense of peace rise from deep within, spreading to every cell in his body.

──Let it stay like this.

──Let time stop.

He prayed.

Let everything stay still.

There was no need for tomorrow. If this moment could last forever...

He didn’t need the kind of tomorrow where he would wake up and go to work, breathing in coal dust deep in the tunnels from dawn to dusk, or burn his mother’s body after losing her.

──Like those birds, free to fly through the sky.

──I want to keep listening to this song, always.

Soon, the stars would fill the sky. He wanted to count them as he listened to this gentle song.

Since coming to Battleship Island, he had only ever seen pieces of the sky, cut into small fragments by the towering buildings around him. He remembered that the sky was once an infinite expanse, stretching endlessly above him.

The song and the evening sky intertwined, sending unfamiliar ripples through his soul.

──Up there.

His right arm moved on its own.

His hand reached out toward the sky.

──Is that where I belong?

Just as that thought formed, it was interrupted by an unwelcome noise.

Rough, mocking laughter echoed from below.

“Hey, over here.” “She’d better be here. You’ll regret it if she’s not.” “She was here yesterday too, singing. She’ll be here today.”

Chijiwa half-sat up and glanced down the steps.

A group of five teenage boys, about fifteen or sixteen years old, was climbing the stairs, laughing crudely. They were local delinquents who attended the junior high school on Battleship Island.

Chijiwa frowned, stood up quietly, and descended the steps without making a sound.

The boys noticed him and stopped, looking up at him.

“Who the hell are you?”

Chijiwa kept his voice low so the girl wouldn’t hear and said softly,

“...Go away...”

It was like shooing off a stray dog. The boys’ faces darkened in response.

“Who does this guy think he is?” “Never seen him before.” “Must be one of the coal miners. Bet he’s too poor to go to school.”

Their faces twisted in disdain. The leader of the group stepped forward, confronting Chijiwa.

“You trying to get with that girl? She’s a Bestado, you know. Got demon blood in her.”

Children born to a Levamme and an Amatsukami were called Bestado. In Amatsukami, Levammes were referred to as "demons" and were despised.

“She just transferred here two days ago, but she’s real stuck up. We need to teach her the rules of this island.” “Step aside. We’re gonna show that demon girl her place. No one’s singing demon songs on our island.”

One of the lackeys placed his hand on Chijiwa’s shoulder, trying to shove him aside.

Chijiwa calmly placed his hand over the boy’s mouth and whispered into his ear,

“Don’t... make a sound.”

With a swift movement, he struck the boy’s throat with a knife-hand.

The boy crumpled to the ground without a sound, unable to even cry out in pain.

The remaining four boys paled and began to back away.

Without changing his expression, Chijiwa closed the distance between them and whispered again,

“...I don’t want... any noise.”

His voice was as emotionless as if he were reprimanding a child.

The leader of the group shouted angrily.

“You bastard!”

“...Don’t yell.”

Chijiwa closed the gap in an instant, driving his fist deep into the leader’s stomach.

The boy collapsed, groaning, his knees buckling beneath him. The remaining three boys were clearly frightened now, retreating even further.

Chijiwa grabbed the collars of the two unconscious boys and dragged them like cats, throwing them at the remaining boys.

“...Take them with you. Quietly.”

One of the boys tried to shout something in response, but Chijiwa raised a finger to his lips, signalling for silence.

“Y-you’ll pay for this! Don’t think you’ll get away with it!”

Muttering a barely audible threat, the boys disappeared into the growing twilight. Watching them go, Chijiwa frowned, hoping the commotion hadn’t reached the girl as he turned to look back up the steps.

His hopes were dashed.

“...”

The girl stood at the top of the steps, looking down at him.

The fading light of dusk cast her pale skin into stark relief, separating her from the rest of the world.

With her arms crossed in front of her chest and the hem of her skirt fluttering in the breeze, she stared down at him with a stern expression.

Chijiwa remained silent, gazing up at the girl. He had hoped to listen to her song without being noticed. His heart sank, and a sigh escaped him, though he made no sound.

The girl furrowed her brow and spoke sharply, her voice clear and commanding.

“Have you been listening the whole time?”

Her voice carried a faint trace of anger. Just like her singing, her speaking voice had a unique quality to it, something only she possessed.

“...”

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

She demanded an answer, but Chijiwa had none to give. He could only frown, pursing his lips as he shrugged.

With a huff, the girl descended the stairs, stopping directly in front of Chijiwa to look him in the eye.

Aside from the colour of her hair, her features were almost entirely those of an Amatsukami. Her eyes, a clear autumn sky blue, were narrow and sharp, and her soft nose and jawline were typical of the Amatsukami people. Though she wore a simple, worn-out school uniform, there was an ethereal, otherworldly quality to her presence.

“Do you have a mouth?”

Despite her innocent demeanour, her words were rather sharp.

Feeling irritated, Chijiwa responded bluntly.

"...I have one."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"..."

"I asked if you were spying."

"...I wasn't... spying."

"Really?"

The girl moved her face close, peering directly into Chijiwa's eyes. Her eyes were like a winter constellation, filled with countless different colours. Chijiwa's cheeks turned bright red without him realizing.

"...I was... listening to the song."

He inadvertently confessed, turning his flushed face away.

The girl smiled mischievously and leaned back, folding her arms confidently.

"Yep. You were listening, alright."

She said it triumphantly. Chijiwa glared at her from the side. The girl chuckled playfully.

"I have good ears, you know. I noticed when you started climbing the steps. I was going to kick you down if you tried to mess with me, but since you were just quietly listening, I let it go."

"..."

Feeling humiliated, Chijiwa continued to glare at her, but the girl's carefree smile didn't falter.

"I also knew when those weird guys came up. I was going to kick them down the stairs too, but you took care of them. I’m actually disappointed, I'm pretty good at fighting."

"..."

"Yuki Yoshioka, first-year at Nami Island Middle School. I just arrived on this island with my dad two days ago, so I don’t know much about it yet. You’ll be my first fan, so teach me things. Yep, it’s settled."

"..."

"Don't you have a mouth?"

"...I do."

"Yeah, I thought so."

"...I don't want to be your fan."

"Why not? Don't you like my singing?"

Without knowing how to respond, Chijiwa looked to the right, then the left, feeling uncomfortable, and finally raised his face to look at Yuki.

"...I don’t hate it."

He muttered, almost sulkily. A faint sense of defeat settled in his chest, but lying would have been more frustrating. It was his way of repaying her for the beautiful song.

Yuki smiled, as if to sweep away the approaching twilight. Her smile was like sunlight filtering through the trees, making that moment seem brighter.

"Okay, then! You're officially my first fan. I'm going to be a singer in the future, so you can brag about it then."

"...I don’t want to be a fan."

"Why not? Are you one of those stubborn guys who thinks men can’t do things like that? If that’s the case, then you can be my bodyguard. That sounds cooler, right?"

"..."

"I don’t want those rowdy boys disturbing my practice. If you're here, I’ll feel safe. Come here again tomorrow at the same time. Since you’re my first fan, I’ll allow you to be near me."

"..."

"Seriously, do you not have a mouth?"

"...Why would I... do that?"

As Chijiwa fumbled for words, Tareo, his dog, poked his head out from behind him and trotted over to Yuki, wagging his tail.

"Oh, a dog!"

Yuki's expression immediately softened, and she crouched down, grabbing Tareo's long ears and giving them a tug.

"His ears feel so nice! His ears!"

Tareo, grinning happily, allowed Yuki to pull on his spatula-shaped, soft ears, and then licked her cheek.

"Haha! So cute!"

Yuki laughed openly, stroking Tareo’s neck, scratching under his chin, and pinching the droopy skin on either side of his mouth. Tareo seemed pleased, snuggling up against Yuki, wagging his tail vigorously.

Yuki looked up at Chijiwa with a smile.

"What’s his name?"

"...Tareo."

"Haha, that's funny! Is it because everything about him droops? Who named him?"

"..."

Chijiwa grimaced and looked down. Yuki laughed even harder.

"It was you!"

"...As long as it works as a name, it’s fine."

"Haha! That’s hilarious! You're funny, first fan, really funny!"

Anger turned Chijiwa's face bright red as he raised his head to glare at Yuki.

"I'm not... some kind of... joke."

Still playing with Tareo, Yuki shot Chijiwa a mischievous smile.

"What’s your name?"

"..."

"Still no mouth?"

"...Chijiwa... Takeo."

"Got it. You’re Take-chan, then. How old are you?"

"...Fourteen."

"I’m twelve. So I’m your senior by two years. Are you in middle school?"

Chijiwa silently shook his head. Yuki didn’t press him for a reason. She just puffed out her chest and declared,

"Take-chan and Tareo, I’m officially naming you my bodyguards. I’ll count on you tomorrow, too."

"...Who said I’d... do that..."

"Anyway, I need to head home and cook dinner for my dad. Take-chan, where do you live? If you’re hungry, just say so. It won’t be much, but I’m a good cook. See you tomorrow!"

Yuki gave Tareo a kiss, then cheerfully waved at Chijiwa as she trotted down the stairs. Like a spring breeze, she disappeared suddenly, leaving Chijiwa standing alone, looking at Tareo.

"Strange girl... she is."

He sighed, gazing at the darkening sky. Above him, the stars had already filled the night.

His heart was beating faster than usual, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t calm it down. Feeling perplexed by this unfamiliar sensation, he walked home with Tareo. That night, for some reason, he slept well. He thought he might have dreamed of hearing Yuki's song, but maybe it was just his imagination.

The next day──

After eight hours of work in the coal mines, Chijiwa washed up and headed home at dusk. He looked up at the sliver of sunset between the buildings, then stepped over the railing from the stairs, entering the apartment through the balcony, as usual.

The September evening was as hot as a steam bath. He took a small sip of stored water and looked around the room.

"Tareo."

Usually, his faithful companion would greet him, wagging his tail, but today, there was no sign of him.

"...?"

He scanned the dim room, but Tareo wasn’t near the hearth, in the sunken kitchen, or hidden behind the stone mill and washboard.

"Tareo."

He stood up and raised his voice. To Chijiwa, who lived alone, Tareo was his only family. The absence of someone who was always there quickly filled him with anxiety.

Tareo wasn’t in the house. Chijiwa stepped back over the railing and descended the stairs, scanning the area.

"Tareo!!"

He called out loudly, listening carefully. From above, he heard the faint sound of a girl laughing.

"That girl...!"

Clicking his tongue, he hurriedly bounded up the stairs, two steps at a time. When he reached the top, there was Yuki, playing with Tareo under the same open sky as yesterday.

He sighed in relief, careful not to let it be heard, then stiffened his shoulders and glared at Yuki. She was wearing the same school uniform as the day before.

"Hey, Take-chan! Welcome back, you’re late today."

Yuki's carefree smile bloomed next to the empty garden. With a grim expression, Chijiwa strode over and demanded answers.

"What are you doing?"

"Why are you so mad?"

"Why is Tareo here?"

"He followed me on his own. Right, Tareo?"

Yuki and Tareo exchanged smiles. Tareo wagged his tail so vigorously it could hardly be believed. It seemed he had seen Yuki climbing the stairs and jumped over the balcony to follow her. The two had clearly hit it off.

Chijiwa fell silent, his expression sour, as he turned his gaze out to the sea. From this vantage point, the entire view of Battleship Island unfolded before them. Below them, the residential buildings, integrated with the rocky cliffs, were crammed together. Beyond them, the sea reflected the colours of the setting sun.

"An interesting view. Nowhere else in the world looks like this."

Yuki stood beside Chijiwa, stretching her back to look out over the sea as it faded into twilight. The September breeze flowed around them, free of the usual smell of coal dust. Perhaps it didn’t reach this height, and instead, the scent of the salty sea breeze filled the air.

Yuki's golden hair, bathed in the setting sun, shone even more brilliantly. The ends of her hair scattered golden light like glitter, reflecting the rays of the brass-coloured sun. Seeing those tiny droplets of light made Chijiwa’s heart race, just like the day before.

"With no one around, I can really practice singing here. I'm so happy. Take-chan, Tareo, I’m counting on you as my bodyguards!"

Yuki’s carefree smile beamed up at Chijiwa. His cheeks flushed as he looked away, trying to hide his embarrassment, muttering awkwardly.

"...Stop calling me that."

"Why? It’s cute. Take-chan, yeah, it's cute."

"..."

"Ahhhhhh! Ehhhhhhh! Uhhhhh!"

Suddenly, Yuki let out a loud shout, causing Chijiwa to instinctively step back. At first, he thought she had lost her mind, but then he noticed her cheerful expression. She was simply warming up her voice. Tareo sat beside her, happily sticking out his tongue.

After completing a series of vocal exercises, she moved on to voice-strengthening exercises, letting out a series of loud shouts. If she practiced like this alone, Chijiwa could see how she might attract attention from the neighbourhood troublemakers. With her striking appearance, her background as a "bastard" (a child of mixed blood between Levamme and Amatsukami), and her oversized dreams for this dreary island, she would be an easy target for bored boys.

Chijiwa folded his arms and sat on the crumbled stone wall, facing the stairs.

Soon, Yuki’s singing began. Unlike the rough, loud shouts from before, her voice was smooth and clear. Her song flowed into his back, soaking into the very core of his body. Like rain in a desolate wilderness, Chijiwa received the downpour of song with his entire being.

Then, yesterday's boys appeared again, this time eight of them. Chijiwa frowned and glared down at them. The boys spotted him and glared back, the leader switching places with a larger boy who confidently marched up the stairs. As soon as he was within range, Chijiwa’s merciless kick slammed into the large boy’s face, sending him tumbling back down. The other boys caught him, cursing loudly as they retreated. Chijiwa silently returned to his seat on the stone wall, resuming his watch.

Yuki’s singing continued uninterrupted. Chijiwa closed his eyes, focusing on his back. Her pure, untainted voice seemed to cleanse his entire being. Although he didn’t understand the lyrics in Levamme, the melody felt tender and nurturing, as if it was meant to comfort him.

With his eyes closed, he felt as if the song might take him away to somewhere else. It was as if Yuki's voice was blowing away all the coal dust and grime that covered the island.

Then──the song stopped.

"...?"

Chijiwa raised his gaze. Yuki was crouching next to him, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"Hey, do you like that song?"

She suddenly asked. Chijiwa was taken aback.

"Wh-why...?"

"You were smiling with your eyes closed."

"Huh...?"

Yuki smiled sweetly.

"Like a baby’s sleeping face."

Chijiwa’s face flushed red. He had indeed been enchanted by her song. It felt like being a child again, lulled to sleep by his mother’s lullaby.

"N-no way..."

"I was singing that same song when you came up the stairs yesterday."

Yuki said, her voice filled with joy.

"I love that song, too. It's about a woman waiting for a man who set off on a journey across the sea and never returned."

Since the lyrics were in Levamme, Chijiwa hadn’t understood a word. He had simply been captivated by the melody.

"It’s a good song, don’t you think?"

Yuki tilted her head. Chijiwa’s face burned even redder, and he glared off in a random direction. Yuki grinned mischievously.

"You’re not being very honest, are you?"

As she brushed off the sand from her knees and stood up, Yuki moved away from Chijiwa and resumed her practice.

Even after the egg-shaped sun set into the western sea, and faint starlight began to descend upon the grey island, her song continued. Chijiwa, looking up at the starry sky, listened to the song with his back. He silently prayed to the stars that the song would never end.

"I'm hungry. I need to make dinner for my dad."

His modest wish did not reach the stars. Yuki suddenly stopped her practice, stretched with a smile, and raised both hands to the night sky.

"Thank you for dealing with those boys. Really, thank you."

Her smile, bathed in the moonlight, gently seeped into Chijiwa's chest. He responded bluntly, trusting the night to hide his blushing cheeks.

"That was nothing..."

"Are you hungry? As thanks, come eat at my place."

"I have bread... I'm fine."

"Bread? Is your mother around?"

Yuki bent down and peered up at Chijiwa's face, suddenly asking that question.

Chijiwa blinked in surprise before shaking his head from side to side.

"...I have no family."

"Oh, I see? Sorry, I didn’t know..."

"This is the only family I have."

Chijiwa crouched down and stroked Tareo's neck. Tareo happily licked Chijiwa's cheek.

Yuki, kneeling beside them, scratched Tareo's back and said,

"Come over and eat with us. Let me at least do that."

"There's no need for that... I'm fine..."

He swallowed the words that all he wanted was to hear her sing again. But Yuki, without hesitation, tugged at his sleeve, saying,

"Don't be shy. It won't be anything fancy, but I guarantee I'm a better cook than you. Right, Tareo? I'll give you the leftovers too, so come on."

Tareo wagged his tail happily, raising his face with excitement. Yuki smiled, clapped her hands together, and said,

"It's settled. Let's eat together; it's better than eating alone. I don’t have any friends on this island yet. You’ll come, right? You have to."

As if it were a done deal, she pushed Chijiwa towards the stairs.

"Hey, cut it out...!"

Despite his complaints, Chijiwa had no choice but to descend the stairs as Yuki pushed him. Tareo followed behind them, his mouth half-open in happiness.

Yuki's house was located at the eastern end of Battleship Island, in a complex known as the "Daily Wage Housing," where the lowest-paid workers on the island lived. After climbing a set of stairs to the fifth floor, a wooden row house was lined up along a concrete corridor—a strange sight, typical of the island, where wooden and reinforced concrete structures had been awkwardly fused together. To enter, you slid open a glass door and removed your shoes in the dirt floor before stepping inside. The room was a simple eight-tatami mat space with only a low table and an old chest of drawers. The partition between this and the neighbouring home was a single plywood sheet. It was housing for day laborers who worked in the mines and didn’t receive monthly wages.

"My dad's not here. Maybe he went drinking again. Oh well."

Yuki turned on the bare light bulb and, seeing the empty room, sighed. She turned to Chijiwa and Tareo with a smile.

"Sit wherever. The bathroom’s at the end of the hallway. Take your time."

After seating Chijiwa in front of the low table, she left the room and headed to the communal kitchen at the end of the long hallway. Left behind, Chijiwa exchanged glances with Tareo and sighed.

"What am I even doing?"

It had been three months since his mother died, and he was starting to get used to the solitude. Or rather, he had been trying not to think about it. If he didn’t think, he wouldn’t have to deal with the strange voices whispering in his mind or the unexplainable pain that sometimes gripped him. That’s how he planned to keep living.

"Why am I here?"

He asked himself. Had he unknowingly begun to feel lonely? He could have refused; he could have shaken Yuki off. Yet here he was, pretending to be reluctant, waiting for a meal at Yuki's house.

"What am I doing?"

The only response to his self-questioning was Tareo's cheerful face.

He considered silently slipping back home, but his body didn’t seem willing to get up. Perhaps, deep down, he wanted to spend a little more time with Yuki.

"Ridiculous."

He doubted his own feelings. He was supposed to be stronger than that—strong enough to live alone, without parents or friends.

"Yeah. I’m strong."

"What are you mumbling about?"

The sudden voice startled him, causing Chijiwa to jerk back. When he looked down at the floor, he saw Yuki standing there, holding an aluminium pot, with a puzzled look on her face.

"Are you the kind of person who talks to themselves a lot?"

"..."

"When I’m around, you go quiet. You’re an interesting one─"

Teasing him lightly, Yuki set the pot on the low table and placed two bowls in front of them. When she lifted the lid, steam rose from a pot of barley porridge.

"It’s not much, but it’s better than eating bread alone."

She scooped some porridge into Chijiwa’s bowl and set it in front of him.

"This one’s for Tareo."

She also placed a separate bowl of millet porridge in front of Tareo. The dog sat still, wagging his tail as he stared at the food, waiting patiently.

Chijiwa glanced at his bowl of porridge before raising his gaze to Yuki.

Yuki, with her eyes closed, pressed her hands together and said,

"Let’s eat."

"...Let’s eat."

A smile bloomed across Yuki’s face.

"I hope it tastes good. You too, Tareo."

"..."

Tareo happily dug into his dish. He seemed delighted, finally getting a break from his usual bread diet, eagerly gobbling down the cold millet.

Not wanting Yuki to see his flushed face, Chijiwa looked down and began eating his porridge. He wasn’t expecting much and had long forgotten what a good meal even tasted like.

But.

"...!?"

Chijiwa's head snapped up toward Yuki, his eyes wide in shock.

Yuki smiled triumphantly and puffed out her chest.

"I told you, I’m good at cooking."

She then took a bite herself, letting out a satisfied sigh.

"Mmm, it’s good. Porridge is all about the broth."

Smiling, she took her bowl in one hand and gulped down the porridge.

A bead of sweat ran down Chijiwa’s temple as he stared at his bowl. It was just simple porridge. But when he swallowed it—

"...!"

He let out a groan without meaning to. His stomach demanded more. Unable to resist, Chijiwa tilted his bowl back and gulped down the rest, just like Yuki.

"There’s more if you want it."

"...!"

Before he realized it, Chijiwa was holding out his empty bowl for more. When he noticed what he’d done, he grimaced in frustration. Yuki, delighted, happily ladled more porridge into his bowl.

"Good! Eat as much as you like."

Chijiwa, now silently and hastily, took the bowl and once again devoured its contents. No matter how much he ate, his body demanded more, and with his brain seemingly numb, he automatically thrust his empty bowl toward Yuki for another refill.

It wasn’t until he had eaten nearly the entire pot of porridge by himself that Chijiwa finally came to his senses.

Across from him, Yuki sat smiling, her cheeks slightly flushed.

"You eat so well! Just like a boy should!"

"..."

"Take-chan, you were totally possessed by the porridge!"

Yuki said cheerfully. Embarrassed, Chijiwa could only bite his lip. Beside him, Tareo, having finished his meal, was now nuzzling his nose against Yuki in gratitude, licking her cheeks.

"Haha, did you like it too, Tareo? I’m glad."

Under the amber glow of the bare light bulb, Yuki’s smile shone brightly.

"...I’ll clean up."

Chijiwa muttered, stacking the dishes from himself, Yuki, and Tareo.

"Oh, I’ll do it─"

"At least let me handle this."

"...Oh, okay? In that case, thanks. The water is at the end of the hall."

Yuki pointed toward the washing area with a cheerful smile.

Without a word, Chijiwa stepped out into the hallway, washed the dishes as instructed, and returned to the room. Yuki and Tareo had become fast friends, playing together without a care.

"He’s so cute, smart, and such a good boy."

Lying on her back, Yuki gently stroked Tareo’s exposed belly, a gesture only shown to those a dog truly trusts.

"At first, I really didn’t want to come to this island. It’s small, cramped, and everything feels so covered in soot."

"..."

"Don’t you think it feels suffocating? The tall buildings are all packed together, the sky is so narrow, and there’s no wind when you walk around. Instead of rain, it’s like salt falls from the sky. The kids at school give me strange looks too. I guess it’s because my mom’s Levamme, so I don’t really look like them. Plus, my hair is like this, so I stand out in all the wrong ways. At school, the only friend I had was this pig I took care of. Everyone else didn’t want to bother with it, but I really liked that pig..."

Yuki rambled on, and Chijiwa didn’t say a word in response. He simply listened, not to the content but to the rhythm of her voice. It wasn’t the words themselves that mattered—it was the music in how Yuki spoke. The rhythm of her words was enough to make him feel like he was floating, as if he could drift away on the wind, lifted from the earth.

"Are you listening?"

"Yeah."

To be honest, he hadn’t been listening to the actual words. It was like listening to foreign music—he didn’t understand what was being said, but the cadence and flow were deeply soothing. He found himself having to consciously maintain his expression, trying not to let his relaxed and enchanted state show. Yuki’s one-sided conversation seemed endless.

But it wasn’t just her words that captivated him. There was something else, another factor that stole his soul.

Yuki’s expressions—he couldn’t stop watching them.

She looked at him directly, speaking with bright, cheerful energy, and her face constantly shifted between emotions: anger, laughter, near-tears, never lingering in one place. Each emotion surfaced naturally, radiating vitality. Just sitting across from her, saying nothing, he felt her energy infusing him with life.

──It feels so comfortable.

It had been a long time since he felt something like this—since he’d felt at ease. When his mother died, he thought such peace would never come again. He thought he’d never have it again, but here it was, right now.

"Are you listening?"

"...Yeah."

"Hey, my dad!"

Suddenly, Yuki’s shout shattered the peaceful atmosphere.

In the dirt floor entryway, a middle-aged man lay collapsed, clearly drunk. He was wearing a beige, dishevelled shirt and work pants—the typical appearance of a miner from Battleship Island who drank too much. He lay face down on the floor, drooling as he snored.

"Again! He’s totally wasted... Seriously, what a mess!"

Even as she scolded, Yuki lifted her father and dragged him into the living room.

"Come on, get up. Want some porridge?"

At her words, her thin, stubbly father’s face twisted in discomfort. He muttered curses about his superiors before falling still.

"Jeez... No wonder Mom left."

Yuki pulled out a worn futon from the closet, looking apologetic as she did so.

Trying not to show his disappointment, Chijiwa quietly helped her lay her father in the futon. The man wore a peaceful expression, spreading his alcoholic breath throughout the room as he muttered incoherently in his sleep, clutching a pillow to his chest.

Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Yuki sighed with relief.

"Thanks for the help. Sorry you had to see that."

"...It’s fine."

"Thanks again for today. I had fun."

Chijiwa almost said, Me too, but instead, he forced the words back down and offered a more restrained response.

"...Thanks for dinner."

That was all he said. Tareo rubbed his nose against Yuki in appreciation.

"See you tomorrow! I practice there every day, so make sure to come as my bodyguard!"

Yuki’s smile followed him as he mumbled a reply.

"...Yeah."

Then, he stepped out onto the dirt floor, into the hallway, and, for some reason, quickly left Yuki’s house. Tareo followed behind.

Outside the Daily Wage Housing, the sky, cramped by the tall buildings, was full of stars.

He weaved through the narrow alleyways. Looking up, the series of jutting balconies reflected the lights of the homes within. The warm smell of dinner drifted down from the starry sky. Normally, such a scene would have made him feel the weight of his loneliness, but now, that feeling didn’t rise at all.

Just a moment ago, he had shared dinner with Yuki under those orange lights. That fact alone filled him with a deep sense of happiness.

His chest felt warm, and he wanted to hold onto that warmth forever. His heart was so full that he found himself walking faster, and before long, he broke into a run.

Breathless, he climbed the long staircase, jumped over the balcony railing, and returned home. That night, even as he wrapped himself in his futon, sleep didn’t come easily. In the darkness, Yuki’s ever-changing expressions flickered like a mirage, flowing past. His heart pounded, and his entire body felt feverish. Focusing all his attention on his ears, he tried to recall the song Yuki had sung at dusk. But the memory of the music was hard to pin down, and the melody was fading from his mind.

──I wish I had a record of Yuki’s songs.

He truly wished for it. If he had a record, he could listen to that song over and over until it wore out.

The song Yuki had mentioned during her practice—the one about a woman waiting for a man who had sailed away and never returned.

If he had that song, he could be with it anytime he wanted. He could lie under his futon and listen to that song as a lullaby. If that happened, he could endure the harsh mining work during the day, looking forward to Yuki’s songs at night.

──If Yuki’s dream comes true, that song will be on a record.

──So, I can be Yuki’s bodyguard.

Convincing himself of this, Chijiwa tried to fall asleep. His body was exhausted, but his mind remained alert deep into the night. In his dreams, Yuki appeared, singing her foreign songs.

After that day, it became Chijiwa's daily routine to head to the observation deck after his coal mining work to meet up with Yuki and keep an eye out for troublemakers.

Yuki would always focus on her practice for one or two hours, between the time Chijiwa and Tareo arrived and dinner time. Her singing improved with each passing day. By strengthening her body and voice, her songs gained an even greater sense of flight. Simply listening made it feel as if one were soaring through the sky.

After about a month, Chijiwa’s initially awkward words gradually started flowing more freely in response to Yuki’s influence, and sometimes he even joked around. Yuki would sometimes prepare a lunch for Chijiwa, and after practice, the three of them would sit on a stone bench and eat together.

“It’s beautiful,” Yuki said while eating her lunch of barley rice balls and pickled radish, gazing out over the dusk-coloured sea. The October sunset lit the sea and sky in a dazzling golden hue.

“It looks like pickled radish,” Chijiwa commented, comparing the colours of the sea and sky. Yuki gave him an exasperated look.

“Take-chan, do you even know what ‘mood’ means?”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah, I figured. But really, comparing such a beautiful scene to pickled radish?”

“Is that so?”

“Well, you probably wouldn’t be able to say anything romantic. If by some miracle you did say something like that, it’d scare me so much I’d run away.”

“…”

“What’s with that face? Are you mad?”

“…I’m not mad. But… I don’t know what a clever line would be.”

“You don’t have to force it. It doesn’t suit you anyway. If you were a Levammian, you could probably spout cheesy lines like turning on a faucet. Those people only think about how to charm women. In that way, they’re completely different from the people of Amatsukami.”

Yuki tossed her legs out in front of her while talking. Her conversations often touched on the topic of Levammians, possibly because her mother was Levammian, though Chijiwa had never asked her about it.

“Do you hate Levammians?”

“Huh? No, not really. There are people I dislike and people I like—just like with Amatsukami. There are good people and bad people, regardless of nationality or race.”

“…I see. From listening to you talk, I thought you didn’t like them.”

“Oh, did it sound that way? I guess maybe I don’t like them in large groups, but individually, I don’t mind. …You know, before I came here, I lived in Tsunenohino. Levammians named the place San Martilia. It’s a place where Levammians and Amatsukami mix, so I’ve had a lot of contact with them since I was little.”

This was the first time Chijiwa had heard this. Tsunenohino was once Amatsukami territory, but about sixty years ago, it was ceded to the Levammian Empire after a war and renamed San Martilia. It was an important autonomous region for Levamme, serving as a strategic foothold for their operations in Amatsukami.

“My mom’s Levammian, so I grew up listening to their songs and watching their plays. They can be violent, but their culture is refined. I actually like Levammian music more.”

Yuki shared her memories of a town where Levammian culture had blended with the native traditions of Amatsukami.

The Levammians who had settled there built grand estates, treating the local people of Amatsukami like slaves or servants, flaunting their power.

Some of the merchants from Amatsukami ingratiated themselves with the Levammians, cleverly integrating themselves into their ranks and amassing wealth by stepping on their own people. Power belonged to the Levammians, and the native inhabitants of Tsunenohino were not treated as humans—they were viewed as animals, like livestock or pets. When the conversation touched on these subjects, Yuki’s tone carried an undercurrent of anger.

“I like Levammian culture. But they think they’re the only real humans and call the people of Amatsukami ‘monkeys’ or ‘subhuman.’”

“…”

“They called me a ‘Bestado’ too, and the Levammian kids bullied me. It wasn’t a problem if they were violent toward us, but if we fought back, it became a huge issue. They’d say things like, ‘Don’t let monkeys defy humans.’”

Recalling unpleasant memories, Yuki bit her lip and swallowed her words, then took a bite of her rice ball and looked up at the evening sky.

She chewed for a moment, swallowed, and continued.

“Levamme has a strict social hierarchy. At the top, you have the king and the nobility, then below them are the merchants and commoners. Further down, you have laborers, and at the very bottom, you have the destitute and foreigners. The lower classes aren’t allowed to defy the upper ones. And for Levammians, the people of Amatsukami aren’t even part of the lowest class—they’re not human, so they don’t fit into the hierarchy at all.”

Her voice was calm, but there was no hiding the anger within that calmness.

Chijiwa remained silent, listening to her words.

Everyone in Amatsukami knew that Levammians considered them less than human, treating them like monkeys or livestock. That’s why Amatsukami had adopted the phrase Gashin-shoutan as their rallying cry and was pouring half of the national budget into military spending, determined to become a wealthy and powerful nation. The discriminatory actions and words of the Levammians were the catalyst for Amatsukami’s resolve to endure their suffering and prepare for the day when they could fight back.

Historically, the people of Amatsukami were farmers, living in harmony with nature, with no other races on their eastern continent. Their society valued humility, mutual support, and service to the greater good, traits that were celebrated because agriculture required cooperation. While they had experienced internal conflicts, they had never resorted to the complete annihilation of their enemies. Even in sieges, they would always leave an escape route for their enemies, allowing those who had no will to fight to flee. This leniency reflected the gentle nature of their people.

In contrast, the Levammians were a people who had carved out their existence by conquering the harsh, untamed western continent. They saw nature as an adversary to be conquered, and survival required subjugating their environment. For them, total war and the extermination of foreign peoples were common. If they lost, they faced annihilation, and if they won, they annihilated their enemies. Their encounters with foreign people were always framed as hostile, a trait ingrained in their national psyche. In Levammian history, where peace and understanding were not guaranteed, their worldview was fundamentally different from that of the people of Amatsukami.

When the two nations first met, crossing the great waterfall that separated them, their conflicting values clashed violently. The Levammians, excelling in warfare, subjugated the people of Amatsukami, forcing their demands down their throats. It was from that day that Amatsukami’s Gashin-shoutan—their resolve to endure hardship and seek vengeance—began. The Levammians’ greatest mistake was failing to realize that the people of Amatsukami, whom they dismissed as monkeys, were in fact proud humans.

Now, the people of Amatsukami, whether city dwellers or farmers, endured extreme taxation and poverty, sacrificing for the sake of national development. To prevent any further territorial losses to Levamme, they had no choice but to bolster their military strength. In the Levammian way, the strong imposed their will on the weak, and only the logic of power prevailed. To survive in such a world, the people of Amatsukami united under the banner of “totalitarianism” as a short-term solution to strengthen themselves. Their rallying cry, Gashin-shoutan, was what allowed them to endure the hardships of their collective struggle.

“I love Levammian culture, but I don’t understand how people capable of creating such beautiful music can call us monkeys and treat us like livestock.”

“…Well, people of Amatsukami call Levammians ‘white pigs.’ It goes both ways.”

“That’s true. But we don’t have institutionalized racial segregation, do we? Levamme enforces it everywhere—in streets, parks, buses, and even bathrooms. Levammians won’t let us share the same spaces as them. It’s not done in secret or with malice; they do it openly, like it’s just common sense. They probably don’t even realize they’re discriminating, treating us like you would with dogs or cats, not allowing them in places meant for humans. I hate that part of them. Even if some of them are good people, once they form a group, they start acting horrible. Something’s wrong with them, though I can’t quite explain it.”

“…”

“…Sorry, I got carried away. I just remembered a lot about Tsunenohino…”

“…No, I get it… Tsunenohino… It’s not an irrelevant place for me either…”

Yuki looked at him curiously.

“Oh? Really?”

“…My grandfather was a samurai from Tsunenohino. After Amatsukami lost the war and the territory was ceded to Levamme, they seized our house and drove us out. Our family scattered, and now I’m here, digging coal.”

“I see… So, Take-chan’s from a samurai family. Now that you mention it, you do have that vibe.”

“…It’s not as grand as it sounds. My father had his pride, but he didn’t have a way to earn money… I’m just complaining. I’ll stop.”

“I’m glad you’re sharing your complaints, Take-chan. What kind of person was your dad?”

“…He had a samurai spirit. Even when we were poor, he tried to maintain his dignity. He refused to work for merchants… He died from a minor illness. We didn’t have the money to take him to a doctor… He was an old-fashioned man. Abandoned by both the country and the times—a stubborn old fool.”

“…I don’t think that’s true. Maybe he wanted to teach you something important. Maybe there was a reason he had to keep up appearances in front of you.”

“What reason would that be?”

“I don’t know. But from what you’ve told me, he sounds like a pretty cool dad. You don’t see people like that anymore.”

“…He was a burden to the family. He didn’t leave us any money, and that’s why I’m stuck here digging coal. No matter how proud he was, it didn’t help us survive. Because of his clinging to the samurai spirit, I can’t even go to school. My life is miserable.”

The bitterness of being unable to attend school welled up inside him again. Despite excelling in both sports and studies, poverty had forced him into a life of labour on this godforsaken island, surrounded by rough men, fearing lung disease from his work in the mines.

“…”

Yuki, for once, fell silent, staring at Chijiwa’s profile.

It was the first time in a month that her chatter had stopped. Chijiwa looked down at her, puzzled.

In Yuki’s clear eyes, he saw himself reflected.

Her gentle lips parted.

“You’re amazing, you know.”

Her words resonated quietly within his heart.

“You’re not miserable at all. You’re way cooler than any of the boys in middle school.”

Chijiwa’s cheeks flushed red. Yuki’s tone grew more insistent as she gazed up at him with a pleading look.

“You’re that amazing because of your father. So, it’s fine. Even if you’re poor and can’t go to school, it’s okay because you’re cool.”

Yuki placed her hand on the back of Chijiwa’s.

Her warmth and softness radiated through his skin.

“So don’t say bad things about your father.”

Her smile was as bright as the sky.

“…It would make your father sad, up in heaven.”

“…”

“…Right?”

“…”

“What’s wrong? You look weird.”

“...Huh? Oh… No, it’s nothing…”

“Your mouth was wide open. What’s with that funny face—”

Yuki suddenly burst out laughing. Chijiwa let out a breath, finally regaining his usual stern expression as he turned his gaze back to the sea.

Night was creeping over the ocean. The crests of the waves shimmered like silver filigree, leaving stripes behind. The distant sound of waves breaking against the seawall reached them.

Their hands remained clasped. Neither of them wanted to let go just yet. The warmth of each other’s hands felt comforting in the October breeze.

“Autumn’s here already.”

“…Yeah.”

“I don’t hate this island anymore. I didn’t like it at first, but it’s starting to grow on me. I like the scenery here.”

“…I see.”

“I could stay on this island forever. It’s a nice place.”

“…But aren’t you going to become a singer?”

“I will. It’s my dream.”

“…Then you can’t stay on this island forever.”

“…Yeah… You’re right. I’ll have to leave someday. It’s a shame, though.”

“…This island isn’t a place to stay forever. It’s just a place to save money. The air is polluted. If you stay too long, you’ll ruin your lungs. You won’t be able to sing.”

“Wow, Take-chan, you really care about me. You’re so kind.”

Yuki teased with a mischievous smile and laughed. Chijiwa frowned.

“…That’s just common sense. No coal miner stays here permanently.”

“Does that mean you’ll leave someday too?”

“…I…"

He tried to respond but found himself unable to answer. Come to think of it, he had no future plans at all. Unlike Yuki, he had no big dreams or goals—he was just living day by day.

“…I don’t know…”

He couldn’t help but lower his head. Yuki, curious, peered up at his downcast face.

“When you’ve saved enough money, you could go to school.”

“…Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. Unlike you, I don’t have any goals for the future…”

If there was anything he wanted to do in the future, it was to buy a phonograph and Yuki’s record. That was the only future hope he had ever entertained.

“Goals, huh? I feel like you’ll do something amazing, Take-chan.”

“…I’m not amazing at all.”

“When I become a singer… I wonder what you’ll be doing when you grow up.”

“…I’ll be digging coal. Nothing will change.”

He said it with a hint of self-deprecation, just as—

A rumble, like thunder, echoed through the dimming sky.

“…?”

Both of them turned their gaze to the sky. In the southern sky, a cluster of clouds drifted, and among them, a small speck seemed to be flying.

The rumble was the sound of a propeller. An Amatsukami fighter plane was approaching Battleship Island.

“Is there an airbase around here? I didn’t know.”

Chijiwa squinted at the approaching aircraft. Despite the fading light, his sharp eyesight allowed him to identify the type of plane.

“…That’s a Type 67 Naval Fighter.”

He recognized the fixed landing gear.

“Wow, you know a lot about planes?”

“…My father was into them.”

He muttered the answer. The only thing his father had left him was a book on aircraft. Chijiwa had pored over every page, memorizing the photographs and blueprints of each plane, and the descriptions too. It was the one thing his father had given him for enjoyment.

The Type 67 Naval Fighter roared as it circled directly over Battleship Island.

Chijiwa could see the island’s residents waving and whistling up at the plane. It was possible that the pilot was originally from Battleship Island, returning home for a brief moment during training, a playful gesture from a hotshot pilot.

The residents’ cheers carried up the hill where Chijiwa and Yuki stood.

“Pilots are cool. They can fly freely through the sky… That’s amazing.”

“…Yeah.”

“It’s every boy’s dream, right?”

“…Yeah. Everyone dreams of it.”

Chijiwa watched the plane’s loop-de-loops with distant eyes.

He felt envious. That pilot had probably come from a privileged background, received a proper education, and entered officer training to become an air cadet. In Amatsukami’s system, only the wealthy could attend officer school. No matter how much the poor might want to become pilots, it wasn’t possible.

There was an unbridgeable gap between him, stuck digging coal underground, and the young pilot performing loops in the sky. Though they were likely close in age, they lived in entirely different worlds. Chijiwa was someone without privilege; there was no point in dreaming.

“If you know so much about planes, why don’t you become a pilot?”

Yuki’s straightforward question came suddenly. Chijiwa sighed and answered.

“…It’s not something you can become just because you want to. Only the elite can become pilots in this country. I don’t have an education… or money.”

The Empire of Amatsukami was a poor country. Unlike Levamme, they didn’t have the budget to mass-produce aircraft and put ordinary people who passed a simple exam in the cockpit. Only the elite, selected through rigorous exams, could become pilots, and the country invested heavily in their training to turn them into a few top-tier warriors.

“What about the Naval Cadet Program? It’s not the same as officer school.”

“…Naval Cadet Program?”

“Oh, I guess you haven’t heard of it? At my middle school, they came recruiting for it.”

The plane above finished its slow loop, seemingly satisfied, and flew away, waving its wings. As the sky grew darker, Yuki continued speaking.

"The Naval Flight Preparatory Cadet Program. You don’t need to pay tuition or entrance fees, and it’s fully residential, with the government covering living expenses during training."

“…It’s impossible. I haven’t graduated from middle school.”

“You just need to have finished elementary school. But the entrance exam is said to be pretty difficult…”

“…!?”

Chijiwa’s eyes widened. If what Yuki said was true, it was like a dream come true.

"With just the officer school, only the rich can become pilots, right? So the government started this program to let talented poor kids become pilots."

"…Preparatory Cadet Program…"

He muttered the words to himself, and a small flame flickered to life in his chest.

“Tell me more… please…!”

Chijiwa leaned forward, bringing his face closer to Yuki’s. His reaction startled her.

"Y-yeah, I’ll bring a flyer next time. Everything’s written there. The eligibility is for boys between fourteen and seventeen who have finished elementary school, so you can apply too, Take-chan."

"No tuition, no fees, no living expenses… Does such a program really exist!?"

"It seems the government is putting a lot of effort into it. I don’t really understand, but they say winning the air war is the key to winning the overall war… There are tons of applicants. I heard there were over 2,000 for just 50 spots…"

“2,000 applicants for 50 spots!?”

At that point, the acceptance rate was about 1 in 40. It would probably increase even more. The odds were daunting, enough to make him feel faint. But with such an enticing opportunity, it made sense that students from across the country would flock to apply. There were plenty of kids like Chijiwa in poverty-stricken Amatsukami.

But even so, it was worth the challenge.

In elementary school, Chijiwa had excelled both academically and athletically. His teachers had high hopes for his future. Though he was behind now, if he worked hard enough on his own, he could catch up.

And if he passed… he could fly!

He could escape the narrow, dusty tunnels underground and spread his wings in the vast, unbounded sky, soaring higher and higher.

“When is the entrance exam!?”

“Oh, um… June!”

“Eight months left…!”

Chijiwa gazed into the distance and groaned. He had to make up for two years of lost schooling in just eight months, and not just that—he had to excel. He still had to work during the day. Without his job, he couldn’t survive, so he’d have to work during the day and study at night, all to pass this exam with a 40-to-1 chance of acceptance.

“Hmm…”

He couldn’t help but groan. The glimmer of hope was so distant, so faint. He lowered his head, lost in thought.

Could he really do it? Was he confident enough? Compared to the other applicants, his circumstances seemed far too unfavourable…

“Take-chan, should I help you study?”

Yuki’s voice cut through his hesitation like she could read his mind.

“You can study here. I’ll lend you my school textbooks. While I’m practicing singing, you can study for the exam! I’ll help you with anything you don’t understand.”

“Study here…”

“If you work hard, you can do it! You’re good at studying, right?”

“My grades… weren’t bad.”

“The entrance exam for the Preparatory Cadet Program isn’t just about academics—they also measure your physical abilities. And Take-chan, you’re strong from working in the mines! As long as you don’t fall behind in your studies, you’ll be fine—you’ll definitely pass!”

Yuki’s encouragement stirred a sense of confidence in him. Indeed, when it came to physical strength, he wasn’t worried about losing to anyone his age. And if Yuki helped him with the basics, he could quickly get the hang of it. Once he mastered the fundamentals, it would all come down to applying himself.

The hope that had started to fade began to swell again. It felt as if a long-dormant beast within him had awakened and was now rising slowly.

Towering thunderclouds seemed to billow in his chest. The future, which had once seemed closed off, now spread wide open before him. He stood up from the bench, clenching his fists tightly before his chest.

“I… I want to take that exam…!”

“Take-chan…!”

Yuki stood up as well, beaming a pure, bright smile at him.

“I want to pass…!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

“If you teach me the basics, I’ll catch up… no, I’ll surpass the others!”

“Yeah, leave it to me! Take-chan, you can do it!”

“Yes, I will become a pilot! I will fly in the sky!”

Filled with excitement, he looked up at the night sky. The stars had begun to appear, and the twilight sky overhead gleamed more brightly than ever.

“You’ve found your goal! Take-chan, you’re going to become a pilot!”

Yuki grinned, looking at him closely. He lowered his clenched fists and bowed his head slightly.

“Please… lend me your textbooks! Teach me how to study! I’ll be your bodyguard on this island for as long as I’m here…!”

“W-whoa, no need to get so formal! You don’t have to ask like that! I’ll help you with whatever I can, so let’s just keep going like we’ve been, okay?”

“Y-yeah, but… how can I thank you…?”

“You don’t have to thank me yet. Save that for when you pass! You’re getting way too worked up. Here, take a deep breath, in and out, in and out!”

Yuki stretched out her arms and exaggerated a deep breath, trying to lighten the mood.

Chijiwa followed suit, calming his breathing and settling his excitement.

“…Right. I haven’t passed yet… I have to put in the work…”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve got to study hard every day. Let’s make our dreams come true together! I’ll become a singer, and you’ll become a pilot!”

“Yeah, and I won’t lose to you. I’ll pass the Preparatory Cadet Program… and leave this island. I’ll definitely fly in the sky…!”

“So cool! A samurai of the sky, a samurai of the skies!”

Yuki beamed, raising both hands toward the sky.

—A samurai of the skies.

Those words echoed deeply within him, resonating in the very core of his being.

“A samurai of the skies, huh…”

“Yeah. Even if samurai don’t exist on the ground anymore, they can still live in the sky.”

“A samurai of the skies…”

It was a romantic notion, something he wasn’t used to, but the phrase had a lovely ring to it.

Yuki was right. Perhaps the samurai, tired of life on the ground, now lived in the skies.

A pilot was like a samurai, skilfully wielding a fighter plane like a sword, fighting in the skies with their very lives as their weapon. The enemy they faced was also a warrior of the sky, honed to perfection. They fought until one of them fell. It was the very essence of a samurai’s way of life.

For the first time in his life, Chijiwa found himself eagerly awaiting tomorrow. It was a feeling he had never experienced before. With gratitude toward Yuki welling up in his chest, he gazed up at the starry sky.

True to his word, the next day, Chijiwa began studying on the hill. Without a desk, he spread a mat on the ground, placed the borrowed textbooks and his notebook on the bench, and threw himself wholeheartedly into his studies. Meanwhile, Yuki loudly practiced her vocal exercises as usual, her voice and singing filling the background like the music from a phonograph while Chijiwa studied. Even when Yuki finished her practice at night, Chijiwa would take his notebook home and continue studying by candlelight until late.

He continued his eight-hour days of labour in the mines as well.

If Chijiwa slacked off too openly in the mines, he risked being lynched by the "supervisor." Such brutal punishments, designed to release the pent-up frustrations of the workers, were often severe, and no one came out of them unscathed. So, Chijiwa made sure to give the appearance of working hard, while secretly reviewing what he’d studied in his mind. As he pushed heavy coal carts up the sloping tunnels, he mentally reviewed the math formulas he’d learned the previous day. He carried a small note with the periodic table in his pocket, and as he hauled the seawater pumps, he recited the elements to himself, committing them to memory. Even while crawling through the narrow, low tunnels where only children could fit, digging out coal, he recalled historical dates. During his breaks in the tunnels, he ate the rice balls Yuki had made for him, reviewing the mnemonic devices he’d created for history.

The entrance exam for the Preparatory Cadet Program tested both academic skills and physical abilities. Physical strength alone wasn’t enough; balance, lung capacity, and reflexes—qualities needed to pilot an aircraft—were all measured. To prepare for this, Chijiwa trained by spinning fifteen times in place and then trying to stand still, searching for stars during the day, practicing one-arm hangs, one-legged stands, and abdominal exercises alongside Yuki.

One of the major concerns was his eyesight. Although his vision wasn’t bad, working in the coal mines, filled with dust, was sure to damage it. After much consideration, Chijiwa spent his last savings to buy a pair of goggles that protected his eyes from dust. Since they were relatively expensive, few workers owned them, but Chijiwa avoided suspicion by pretending he had an eye infection.

Even when his eyes were bloodshot and his body exhausted, there were times when bullies would climb the steps to harass him. But Yuki would help him fend them off. She was quick with both her hands and her words, sometimes confronting the bullies before Chijiwa even noticed. To an outsider, it might have seemed like Yuki was guarding Chijiwa while he studied.

Not a single day passed without effort. Autumn turned to winter in the blink of an eye. Though the hill was freezing, their training continued with the same intensity. Without attending school, it was hard to know how his grades compared, but based on the test problems Yuki gave him, Chijiwa’s academic performance was well above average. The harder he worked, the more his efforts were reflected in his progress. As he blew warm breath onto his chilled fingers, warmed himself with Tareo’s body heat, and listened to Yuki’s singing, he devoted all his remaining time to studying.

February.

Chijiwa fell ill with a fever, the result of overwork. Yuki stayed by his side for three days and three nights, nursing him. She even stopped practicing her singing, despite their poor finances, and scraped together enough to feed him nourishing meals. At night, she sang softly to him, like a mother would to a child, until he fell asleep. It was that foreign song about a woman waiting for a man who had gone to sea. Listening to Yuki’s voice, Chijiwa drifted off to sleep. On the fourth day, when his fever finally broke, Chijiwa cried, not out of sadness but from a feeling he had never experienced before.

Winter passed, and spring came.

He could tell the seasons were changing because the wind grew softer. There was hardly any greenery on Battleship Island, so the landscape didn’t change much. Yuki turned thirteen and became a second-year student in middle school. Her face had become more mature, her golden hair had grown longer, and her body was entering adolescence. The classmates who had once looked at Yuki’s foreign appearance with curiosity had gradually grown accustomed to her. In fact, they began to find something alluring in the mixed features of her Levamme heritage. Her bold and straightforward personality, combined with her fragile foreign beauty, created a unique charm that was distinctly Yuki’s own.

Everyone knew that Yuki practiced singing at the lookout on the hill. But no one from school had ever seen her practice. It was common knowledge that she was always guarded by a quiet bodyguard and a dog. Those who tried to spy on her practice sessions were driven off one by one, and by now, no one dared approach the lookout in the evening. It had become a peaceful time for just the two of them and Tareo.

In May, with only one month left before the exam, Yuki stopped practicing her singing and had Chijiwa study at home. By this time, his academic skills had far surpassed those of his peers, and he was more than ready to take the Preparatory Cadet Program’s entrance exam. Chijiwa was reluctant to change their routine and asked Yuki to continue practicing, but she firmly refused and instead took care of Chijiwa’s meals until the day he was set to leave the island.

June.

The day of Chijiwa’s departure to Amatsukami mainland for the entrance exam.

The only ones who came to see him off at the pier were Yuki and Tareo.

The ferry’s whistle blew as it approached. Dressed in a student’s kimono borrowed from Yuki’s father, Chijiwa stood silently, gazing out at the sea.

It was a thirty-minute ferry ride to the mainland. From there, he would transfer to a train and travel northeast for two nights before reaching the Amatsukami capital, "Toto." The exam would take place two days after his arrival.

“Don’t get lost. Make sure to scout out the exam site in advance.”

As the damp sea breeze blew, Yuki spoke to him like a concerned mother. Against the grey backdrop of Battleship Island’s concrete buildings, Yuki’s golden hair looked strikingly vibrant.

“I’ll take care of Tareo while you’re gone. Don’t worry, just focus on the exam.”

“…Thank you.”

“You’ve never been to Toto, right? It’s crowded, dirty, and the air is bad, so make sure to gargle when you get to your inn. Don’t catch a cold.”

“…The air will probably be better than here.”

“But it’s so big. You’ve been on this tiny island for so long, I’m really worried about you.”

“…You’re exaggerating. I’m only leaving for eight days.”

“Still, it’s your first trip alone. Maybe I should go with you after all?”

“…Just wait here. I’ll be fine.”

“…Yeah. I believe in you.”

Though she said that, Yuki looked up at Chijiwa with an anxious expression.

The final acceptance rate for the Preparatory Cadet Program had reached 150 to 1. Fifty spots and 7,500 applicants.

Chijiwa stared resolutely at the distant sky.

Ahead of him stood an impossibly narrow gate.

But if he didn’t pass this test, he couldn’t become a pilot.

He couldn’t repay Yuki’s kindness.

“…I will definitely pass.”

Chijiwa looked down at Yuki and said only that much.

Yuki smiled gently, then lightly grabbed his sleeve and rested her forehead against his chest.

"You’ll pass. I know it," she said softly.

“…”

"You’ll probably achieve your dream first, Take-chan. Mine will come after."

She spoke almost as if she were predicting the future, then gently pulled away. Her usual pure, unclouded smile softened under the June sunlight.

The ferry docked at the pier. Other passengers heading to the mainland passed by Chijiwa and Yuki.

Chijiwa patted Tareo’s head once, slung his bag over his shoulder, and looked toward the boat.

"…I'm going."

"Yeah. Be careful."

Without turning back, Chijiwa boarded the ferry. The horn echoed loudly, and the ship slowly began to pull away from Battleship Island. As he peeked through the round window of the third-class cabin, he saw Yuki standing on the pier, still waving at the departing ship.

Upon arriving on the mainland, Chijiwa transferred to a train bound for “Toto.” This was his first journey away from home, having never even gone on a family trip in his fourteen years of life. The landscape of Amatsukami, passing by through the train’s window, was bleak and monotonous. The towns they passed were poor, with some showing signs of decay. "Fukoku Kyohei"—enrich the country, strengthen the military. Heavy taxes had been levied on both the rich and the poor alike to fund the military build-up. Many poor villages were left with nothing after taxes, forcing their residents to flee. It was on the backs of such sacrifices that Amatsukami's military power was being built.

During the fifty-two hours of the train ride, Chijiwa slept only once, spending the rest of the time studying. The train was sparsely populated, and aside from a vendor selling tea, the train car was almost silent. Comparing the reference books and notes Yuki had lent him, he reviewed the four subjects that would be tested: classical literature, mathematics and physics, science, and geography and history. He meticulously went over the material he had repeated so many times that it felt as though it had burned into his brain, preparing himself for the exam.

On the third day, around noon, the train finally arrived at Toto.

Stepping off the train at the grand brick-built Toto Station, Chijiwa found himself in the midst of the largest city on the eastern continent, with a population of over 1.5 million. Stone buildings towered on either side of the broad streets, streetcars ran down the centre, and the many passers-by moved quickly and expressionlessly. As Yuki had feared, Chijiwa, having spent his entire life on Battleship Island, couldn't help but look around curiously. He gazed at buses crowded with people, the street vendors lining the roads, and shyly averted his eyes from the fashionable Levamme-style ladies. He stopped in his tracks to watch the airships and aircraft formations that occasionally passed overhead. Toto was far more bustling and stimulating than he had imagined.

Many of the vehicles on the streets were military-related, too. Green-painted transport trucks, military motorcycles with sidecars, and hulking armoured cars roared down the roads, kicking up dust. The banners that adorned the department stores and government buildings all carried slogans encouraging national pride and the spirit of "Gashin Shoutan"—enduring hardship in preparation for revenge. The public’s admiration for the military was clear, with children being raised to aspire to become fine soldiers.

Chijiwa became more certain than ever that Amatsukami would soon go to war with Levamme. The country and its people were already marching forward toward that inevitable day. This societal momentum could no longer be stopped. It wasn’t anyone’s fault; it was a historical inevitability, a part of humanity’s progress. The two nations separated by the great waterfall would inevitably clash.

---When that day comes, I want to be in the sky.

After scouting out the exam venue, Chijiwa, trying to save money, headed for a cheap inn in a poor part of town.

On the day of the exam—

Chijiwa stood, overwhelmed by the mass of applicants who had come from all over Amatsukami to take the exam.

Determination was etched on the faces of each candidate. Some were accompanied by their families, sent off with cheers of encouragement. Others, like Chijiwa, were poor and alone, with nothing but tightly clenched lips as they entered the venue. Seven thousand five hundred young men, all harbouring grand ambitions, crowded toward the narrow gate—fifty spots for the taking.

Chijiwa fully realized the scale of the challenge before him.

Those who passed this test would receive top-tier training from the government, and after three years of intense preparation, they would be released into the battlefield as elite pilots. Amatsukami, with its limited resources, could only counter Levamme’s overwhelming forces by putting their most highly trained warriors in the best aircraft available. The future of the country rested on raising pilots who could single-handedly take down swarms of weaker enemies. Every applicant here saw themselves as a future ace, and their youthful energy pressed down on Chijiwa’s shoulders.

He felt dizzy, and his knees trembled. Having lived on Battleship Island his whole life, he had never encountered so many people his own age. The sheer number of students studying full-time, compared to his working background, made him feel disadvantaged. He had no school education, and no qualified teachers on the island—everything he knew had been self-taught. He was at a serious disadvantage compared to the others.

For a moment, Chijiwa felt like he might give up. He closed his eyes.

---Yuki.

The only person he could lean on now was Yuki.

---"You’ll pass. I know you will."

Yuki’s words from the pier echoed in his ears.

Chijiwa opened his eyes and clenched his fists tightly.

He took a deep breath.

Recognizing that he was starting to feel weak, he shook off those feelings.

“I will pass,” he told himself as he walked into the exam venue.

The exam lasted for eleven straight hours, from morning to night.

Chijiwa was most concerned about the written portion at the start. Compared to the other applicants, he knew he was at a disadvantage and that if he fell behind, it would be here. Drawing on everything he had learned in the past eight months, he focused all his concentration on answering each question, one by one, pushing through the five-hour test of four subjects.

Without stopping for lunch, the physical exams began.

In the spinning test, Chijiwa sat in a rotating chair, spun fifteen times, and had to stand up and maintain a steady posture. Then came the kinesthetic test, in which he was blindfolded and made to grip the control stick of a simulator. He had to detect even the slightest movement of the stick, mimicking the subtle control needed in real air combat. The next test measured his visual field with refractors and adjusters, followed by a depth perception test using a stereoscopic device. This tested his ability to judge distance—crucial for spotting enemy planes in dogfights. He then had to balance on one leg and undergo a vision test, followed by a test that measured his balance as the platform he stood on tilted. After maintaining his balance on the platform, he was asked to hang from a bar by one arm and see how long he could last. This tested his endurance—another key factor in air combat. Finally, there was a lung capacity test, in which he had to blow mercury up a glass tube. Only after all of these trials did the long exam day come to an end.

After enduring a full day of intense mental and physical strain, completely drained, Chijiwa left the exam hall and returned to his inn.

He wasn’t sure how well he had done. He felt like he had managed, but with so many applicants, he doubted he could pass such a competitive exam. Lying on the thin mattress of the inn, Chijiwa longed to hear Yuki’s voice. Tomorrow, he would take the train back to Battleship Island. The results would be announced two weeks later, on July 3, via telegram to the island.

July, the day of the results—

Chijiwa took the day off from work and waited at the pier all morning. He hadn’t slept the night before, and before sunrise, he had already arrived at the harbor to gaze toward the mainland.

The ferry, which would carry the telegrams, came twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening. The early morning ferry that arrived at 7 a.m. had not brought the telegram. There was nothing to do but wait for the evening ferry, but he couldn’t think of any way to pass the time. So, he continued to stare out at the distant sea.

The sun crawled slowly overhead, making the wait feel even longer. Leaning against the wall of a warehouse, Chijiwa didn’t move an inch, his eyes fixed on the direction the ferry would come from. In his mind, images of a future where he soared freely through the skies alternated with the grim reality of pushing coal carts in the mines under the watchful eyes of supervisors. A heavy weight settled in his stomach.

Finally…

As the sun began to set, Chijiwa spotted the silhouette of the ferry on the horizon. His chest tightened, and his legs grew restless as he waited for the ferry to dock. As soon as the boat pulled alongside the pier, he spotted the postman and rushed over to him.

“C-Chijiwa…! There should be a telegram from the navy for Chijiwa Takeo…!”

Struggling to get the words out, Chijiwa asked the postman, who rummaged through his mailbag and pulled out a telegram addressed to "Chijiwa Takeo" from the Naval Air Corps Commander.

“Th-thank you…!”

Grateful, Chijiwa snatched the telegram and ran.

He didn’t know why he ran. But at that hour, he was always at the lookout point on the hill with Yuki. His body naturally sought out the familiar place as he sprinted up the stone steps.

Out of breath, he reached the hilltop, where, as always, Yuki and Tareo were waiting.

"Take-chan!"

The lookout was bathed in the same crimson sunset as when they had first met. The sea behind Yuki glowed with a faint reddish hue.

As soon as Yuki saw Chijiwa, she rushed over to him.

“So, how did it go?!”

She was practically leaning forward with excitement. Chijiwa wiped the sweat from his face and, with a serious look in his eyes, faced Yuki.

“I-I haven’t opened it yet…!”

Yuki, who had been about to stumble in anticipation, composed herself with a serious expression and said,

“Okay, let’s open it together…! I’ll face it with you!”

“Y-yeah, let’s look together…”

Chijiwa opened the telegram. He had never seen his hands tremble so much before. With unsteady fingers, he took out the paper, glanced up at the sky to calm his nerves, and finally read the message.

In an instant—

His hands shot up into the air.

Instinctively, he let out a roar to the heavens.

"Take-chan!"

In the next moment, Chijiwa had his arms around Yuki’s shoulders.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!”

“Take-chan, amazing, amazing, amazing!!”

“I-it’s all thanks to you! If it weren’t for you, I-I would never have…!!”

The words wouldn’t come. He simply tightened his arms around her.

Yuki cried. She cried and laughed at the same time. Wrapping her thin arms around Chijiwa’s back, she hugged him tightly.

“You’re incredible. You did it. Against all odds, you did it!”

“I can fly…! I’m going to be a pilot…!!”

“That’s right! You’re going to leave this tiny island and soar through the wide-open skies! You’re going to become a Samurai of the skies!”

“I-it’s all because of you…you helped me so much…I…”

“I know, I know. You did it, you really did it…”

With tears streaming down her face, Yuki wiped them away against Chijiwa’s chest. She had watched him work so hard from so close, and now she was overwhelmed with joy for him. At their feet, Tareo stood on his hind legs, placing his paws on them and wagging his tail excitedly, as if he understood their celebration.

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you…If there’s anything I can do for you…”

“I want to fly, too! Take-chan, when you become a pilot, take me with you!”

“Sure, if that’s what you want, I’ll take you with me anytime. We’ll fly together, you and me…!”

“It’s a promise. We’ll fly together one day!”

“Okay, I promise. I’ll take you anywhere, even all the way to Levamme if you want…!”

Yuki, full of joy, hugged him tightly, rubbing her cheek against his. Chijiwa squeezed her back, sharing in their happiness. As the sun began to set, they embraced, cherishing the moment like a treasured memory.

Eventually, the sun disappeared, and night fell.

Under the blanket of stars, the two sat side by side on the bench.

A gentle breeze blew once, lifting Yuki’s hair.

“You’ll start as a trainee in July.”

“...Yeah.”

“…You’ll have to leave the island.”

“…”

“It’s sad, but it can’t be helped. It’s your dream, after all.”

The future was bright, but Chijiwa realized he would have to leave some things behind, no matter how important they were.

Chijiwa would be moving to "Hanagashima Air Base" in early July, where the first class of Naval Aviation Preparatory Cadets would begin their training. Hanagashima was about four hundred kilometres from Battleship Island, far enough that it wouldn’t be easy for a poor student to visit.

---Once I’m in Hanagashima, I won’t hear Yuki’s singing anymore.

That thought filled him with a deep sense of loneliness.

“I’ll take care of Tareo. He’s already attached to me. And I’ve always wanted a dog.”

“…Thank you…”

The two knelt and petted Tareo. The cheerful beagle, whether he understood their conversation or not, smiled contentedly and licked their faces in turn.

“Just don’t forget about this island. That’s all I ask.”

With her golden hair reflecting the starlight, Yuki murmured softly.

“Don’t forget Battleship Island, no matter how far away you go.”

“…”

“...Okay?”

Her voice was tinged with sadness.

“…I won’t forget. Probably…”

“Probably?”

“…I won’t forget.”

Feeling a bit embarrassed by his own words, Chijiwa turned away, looking out at the night sea. The waves, illuminated by the moonlight, glimmered silver.

Memories of the days spent studying on the hill, listening to Yuki’s singing, flashed through his mind. Day after day, even as they braved the cold winds, they worked together, with Tareo’s warmth keeping their hands from freezing. Yuki had been there for him the whole time, often bringing him bento meals, and when he fell ill, she had nursed him for three days and nights. He wanted to express his gratitude in a meaningful way, but no words came to mind.

“I’ll write to you. And you’d better send me a postcard or something.”

“…Yeah. I’ll try…”

“I don’t think you’re the type to write letters.”

“…I never had anyone to write to…”

“I want to brag when I become a singer. I want to achieve my dream while you’re still in training. So promise me, you’ll write.”

“…”

After Chijiwa nodded silently, Yuki stood up, stretched, and puffed out her chest, trying to appear brave.

"Once I become a singer and release my record, make sure you buy it. With just one record, distance won’t matter. You can listen to my songs anytime, as much as you want."

"…Yeah, that’s true."

"Just you wait. I’m going to become a big hit, a national star. Then, Take-chan, you won’t be able to reach me anymore!"

Yuki's playful challenge made Chijiwa smile, the corners of his lips curling up in a small, confident grin.

"…I’ll become the ace of this country’s fighter pilots. You’ll be the one who can’t meet me."

"Wow, you said it! Let’s see who rises to the top first. I won’t lose!"

Yuki playfully punched Chijiwa’s chest with a clenched fist. He returned her mischievous smile with a chuckle, gazing out at the twilight sea.

A mix of sadness and hope swirled in his chest, two opposing emotions entangled, as something within him was transforming.

Chijiwa looked up at the starry sky.

The sky stretched endlessly, expanding far beyond this place, embracing the infinite ocean below.

---To leave this island.

---To find my place.

---To soar into the sky.

His young body trembled with excitement, eager for the unseen future. The life he thought would end in the coal mines was fading away at that moment, replaced by a new vista filled with the promise of tomorrow.

Beyond this sky, a grand adventure awaited him. That premonition made his soul tremble with anticipation.

---I’ll risk everything I have.

---I’ll fly until I can’t go any further.

---And one day, I’ll take Yuki with me.

---Flying to the ends of the sky while listening to her songs.

"Ah!"

Suddenly, Yuki let out a surprised cry from beside him.

"Take-chan, you’re smiling!"

Chijiwa looked down at Yuki in confusion. Now that she mentioned it, he realized his cheeks had relaxed, the corners of his eyes softened, and his mouth felt lighter. Could this expression on his face really be a smile?

"It’s the first time I’ve seen you smile!"

Yuki raised both her hands, mirroring his smile with her own joyful grin.

"…A smile, huh."

He wasn’t sure what to make of it himself, but he certainly felt light and happy. It didn’t seem to give off a bad impression, either.

"Yeah, it’s a great look. You should fly the skies with that face!"

Yuki picked up Tareo, spun around playfully, and her carefree laughter echoed across the hill.

Chapter 2: The Beautiful Sky

When flying from Amatsukami toward the Levamme Empire, one inevitably encounters the barrier of the Great Waterfall.

A colossal cascade, with a height difference of 1,300 meters, splits the sea in two, and its ends have yet to be discovered. The higher sea, the Western Sea, is controlled by Levamme, while the lower sea, the Eastern Sea, belongs to Amatsukami. Around a hundred years ago, when air travel became possible over the Great Waterfall, the two nations first encountered each other. Levamme, after winning a major war sixty years ago, annexed the region of Tsunebino from Amatsukami, renaming it the San Martilia Autonomous Region and establishing a foothold for further expansion into the eastern continent.

Now, in the current era—

On October 10th, Imperial Year 3210—

The Amatsukami Navy’s aircraft carrier Unkaku, escorted by four destroyers, crossed the Great Waterfall without facing any enemy attacks, arriving at the front-line base of the Trebas Atoll. This atoll, situated about 150 kilometres beyond the Great Waterfall, was strategically ideal for Amatsukami’s first strike against the Western Sea. Three months after the war began, the Amatsukami Navy’s air fleet crossed the Great Waterfall and launched an air raid on this small atoll, overwhelming Levamme’s forces and driving them from the island. Since then, the island had served as the site of a new airfield, from which daily air battles were fought against enemy aircraft flying from La Vista Airfield on the distant Sion Island, some 500 kilometres to the west.

This airfield was named "Mitobaru."

It took its name from a place in Amatsukami’s creation myth, where the male and female deities were said to have been born. Chijiwa and the other airmen of the Unkaku’s air wing were reassigned to "Otonashi Air Wing" stationed at Mitobaru Airfield.

This was in preparation for the second phase of operations, set to begin in two months. The Unkaku was docked at Trebas Island for repairs, and its entire crew, including the pilots, had been transferred to the base.

Chijiwa, having taken off from the deck of the Unkaku, landed at Mitobaru Airfield. Typically, when moving from a carrier air wing to a base air wing, pilots would fly their own aircraft. As he arrived at the airfield, a group of pilots stood in front of the air control centre, waiting to welcome the new members of the squadron.

"Here, you’ll never get bored. We’re in the skies every day."

The man who approached Chijiwa was a familiar face—a fellow non-commissioned officer who had fought alongside him in the battle for air supremacy over San Martilia. Unlike the carrier air wing, the base air wing saw more frequent air combat. At just twenty-two years old, Chijiwa had already earned the title of gekitsui-ou—the Ace of Aces—of the Imperial Army, with a reputation that preceded him among the members of Otonashi Air Wing. Their expressions were filled with awe, admiration, envy, and jealousy.

"I look forward to working with you."

Chijiwa responded briefly. His wingmen, Sugino and Matsuda, followed suit, and finally, the former leader of the Unkaku Air Wing, Shinichi Hasami, touched down last on the runway.

It had been over a month since his defeat in a duel with the Seagull.

The punishment for his insubordination—breaking formation mid-battle, engaging in a one-on-one duel without permission, and letting a crucial enemy escape—was a mere demotion to squadron leader. Given that Chijiwa was the top graduate of the first class of Naval Aviation Preparatory Cadets, which had an entrance exam with an astonishing 150-to-1 acceptance rate, and that he had downed seventy-four enemy planes in the nine months since the war began, the air force couldn’t afford to ground such an ace at a critical time. His continued participation at the front lines was considered penance for his mistake. That was the reasoning of the Unkaku’s air wing command.

After his demotion, Chijiwa cut his long hair and shaved his head. While this was meant to be a symbolic act of repentance, the truth was that he had simply been too lazy to cut his hair earlier. Relieved of his responsibilities of leading a fourteen-plane squadron, he ran his hand over his shaved head and felt both physically and mentally refreshed.

Two days after their arrival, an air raid was launched against La Vista Airfield on Sion Island. A formation of over fifty fighters and bombers took off, heading toward the enemy airfield 500 kilometres away, while Chijiwa and the other pilots who had transferred from the Unkaku watched from the ground.

The remaining pilots were left on standby. Although they were technically on alert, it was likely that the day’s air battles would be confined to enemy territory. By now, La Vista Airfield’s anti-aircraft guns were probably offering a warm welcome to the raiders.

Chijiwa, along with his new mechanic, busied himself inspecting his Beagle aircraft, which stood lined up beside the runway. He personally checked the fuselage, main wings, side wings, and forewings for any loose rivets, inspected the hydraulic pressure of the landing gear and struts, then climbed into the cockpit to ensure that the flight controls responded optimally. Most pilots left their aircraft’s maintenance entirely to the mechanics, but by thoroughly inspecting and adjusting even the smallest details himself, Chijiwa ensured he could push his plane’s performance to its limits during combat. The slightest adjustment to the controls, or even how hard he pressed the foot pedals, could make a huge difference in the heat of battle, determining the outcome of a dogfight. It was this meticulous attention to detail that allowed him to fully trust his aircraft in combat.

Sweating from the effort, Chijiwa spent the entire morning inspecting his beloved plane. Sugino and Matsuda, following their leader’s example, were just as focused on maintaining their own planes. Around them, the other standby pilots lounged in the sun, played board games, or idly criticized three-penny novels.

The peaceful atmosphere was abruptly shattered by the sound of the alarm bell.

The sharp clang of the bell next to the command centre echoed through the air. As soon as Chijiwa heard it, he tossed the altimeter he had been cleaning back onto the instrument panel and started the hydrogen fuel stack of his aircraft. Over the loudspeaker, the base operator announced the enemy’s approach.

"Spotting post reports: two enemy light cruisers, ten large bombers, and thirty escort fighters approaching from 230 degrees. Estimated distance: 25 nautical miles from Victoria Sea. Time: 1125."

The enemy was launching a surprise attack. It was likely that both attack squadrons had passed each other in the air. Since both sides were tasked with bombing each other’s bases, they had likely spotted each other but chose to continue on their respective missions rather than engage. Now, it was up to the remaining pilots to defend the base. Both bases were about to experience a chaotic day, with their standby pilots scrambling to respond.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!" "Move! Move!"

The idle non-commissioned pilots leaped up all at once and sprinted toward the parked planes, scrambling up the ladders and diving into whichever cockpit they could find. Unlike pre-planned air raids, where pilots were assigned to specific planes, intercepting an enemy attack was a free-for-all. The first to take off got to fly, while the unlucky ones had to sit in a bunker, knees hugged to their chest, waiting for the others to return. Some pilots were so desperate that they ran across the runway in nothing but loincloths, not even bothering to put on their flight helmets.

Fortunately, Chijiwa and his two squamates, who had already been inspecting their planes, were among the first to take off. As the DC motor roared to life and connected to the propeller shaft, the propeller began to spin.

They were the first out of the line, while other planes were still performing instrument checks. As he entered take-off roll, the bumps on the uneven runway sent vibrations through the control stick.

Before him, the red soil of the runway and the deep blue sky stretched out.

As Chijiwa pulled back on the stick, the runway vanished. The air control centre, barracks, and hangars that had been visible in his peripheral vision dropped away below him.

The world turned to pure blue.

And in his Beagle, Chijiwa relished this second-favorited moment of flying.

No mountains, no rivers, no dense forests, no jagged coastlines stood in his way—just the vast, simple expanse of sky and clouds.

Its simplicity was what made it so beautiful, yet so ruthless. As he spread his wings in this serene, pristine place, it was as if memories of the womb came flooding back. The sensation was one of complete fulfillment, lacking nothing, utterly quiet and clean, with his entire existence seemingly expanding into infinity. Every time he flew, Chijiwa felt as though he had been reborn.

And now, he scanned the horizon, searching for the worthy opponent who would challenge him, the one whose skill would push him beyond his limits. Today, too, he prayed that young man would appear in the skies.

---Come out, Seagull.

Climbing to an altitude of 6,700 meters, they circled leisurely above Miyako and Harubaru Base. When on interception duty, this altitude was Chijiwa’s favorited spot. As air combat naturally lowered their altitude, he preferred to start from a high position whenever possible.

Today's battle was an interception mission, so there was no need to fly endlessly over the sea. As long as they patrolled the area around the base, the enemy would come to them. Unlike an invasion mission that attacked enemy airfields, there was no need to worry about conserving power for the return trip, and even if they were hit and forced to bail out, they would land in friendly territory, increasing their chances of survival.

── Air combat is easier.

Such thoughts crossed his mind. None of the pilots sent to the frontlines despised battle. Those without such a temperament were never selected for flight school in the first place. Only those with the resolve to face death on the battlefield and the determination to fight until the day their life ended could make it here. Those flying in the skies now were the few elite chosen for their skill, spirit, and even their very souls.

With that pride in their hearts, the pilots of the Otonashi Air Squadron took to the skies one after another. Twenty-seven operational aircraft. A sufficient number. From the distant second airfield, they could see the carrier-based strike force launching. Since the enemy attack was backed by airships, true combat wouldn’t be possible with fighters alone.

Chijiwa cast his gaze over the airspace. He wanted to approach the enemy undetected and strike with a surprise attack. The sooner he spotted the enemy, the easier it would be to launch repeated attacks before they could drop their bombs. The sky was covered in six to seven layers of clouds, with stratocumulus and broken clouds swimming around at an altitude of about 4,000 meters. If he could use those clouds effectively... as he thought that, several glimmers caught the corner of his eye.

"...!"

He strained his eyes. At a horizontal distance of about 23,000 meters, where an ordinary person could not see, Chijiwa spotted the enemy aircraft formation.

At 8,000 meters, a formation of large bombers, and just below that, at 6,000 meters, thirty escort fighters.

He wanted to take care of the fighter squadron first, but the enemy was approaching from a fairly high altitude as well.

── Hit from below.

Chijiwa immediately decided to abandon his altitude advantage. Considering the position of the clouds, the enemy’s future location, and their own movement speed, this was the best choice.

As always, none of his allies had noticed the enemy aircraft. Shaking his wings, Chijiwa extended one hand from the cockpit to signal to the others.

"Follow me, I will guide you."

The remaining twenty-six aircraft silently followed Chijiwa. In the non-commissioned ranks, there was an unwritten rule that the pilot who first spotted the enemy took command. With Chijiwa leading, there was a sense of confidence. The Otonashi Air Squadron, led by Chijiwa, descended into the clouds at 4,000 meters.

They quickly broke through the clouds and levelled out.

Even when they looked up, the clouds obscured the enemy formation. Although they knew the enemy’s target was Miyako and Harubaru Airfield, they didn’t know the approach route, so from here on, they could only rely on intuition to make contact.

Chijiwa stared intently at the blue sky ahead. He focused all his awareness on his ears, ignoring the sound of his own propellers, trying to pick up the faint sounds of enemy aircraft echoing through the sky. Like listening for a mosquito’s buzz amidst the roar of a tiger. Amid the familiar drone of his own plane’s propeller, there was a slight, almost imperceptible, off-key sound, like a small pebble among the mud.

At that moment, Chijiwa pulled back on the control stick and opened the throttle.

Ascending back into the thin stratocumulus clouds, he burst out above them.

Sure enough, the underbelly of the enemy fighter formation was right in front of Shin-den's nose.

── Attack first and win.

It looked like an ideal air battle. The enemy hadn’t noticed them and was leisurely exposing their soft underbellies. Although ascending with clouds behind them made them easier to spot, these enemy pilots were inexperienced. To monitor the area below their aircraft, they would have to roll over and look up at the ground from the cockpit, but most pilots found that troublesome and neglected it. Their laziness would cost them their lives.

From a blind spot, Chijiwa led his twenty-six aircraft, creeping up on the enemy.

The enemy planes grew larger. Today’s opponents weren’t Aires II. These smaller planes looked agile, with four 15mm machine guns protruding from their wings. The refined cowling design suggested they were equipped with the latest DC motors. These were new fighter models, the likes of which he had never seen before.

At a distance of seventy meters, they closed in to a sure-kill range, and like a hunting dog sinking its teeth into a lamb’s belly, they struck.

A volley from their 30mm machine guns blew the enemy plane to pieces. The enemy pilot likely died without even realizing what had happened.

── Ah...

As Chijiwa watched the shattered plane fall toward the sea, a deep sense of satisfaction welled up in his chest.

Flying in the skies and shooting down enemy planes—this was Chijiwa's greatest joy.

Air combat itself was a pleasure. He had no cheap pity for the enemy. Both friend and foe—those who flew in these skies were all the same breed. Anyone who wasn’t couldn’t survive here.

Chijiwa pierced through the centre of the enemy formation and targeted another plane, pressing the attack.

Two bursts of flame scorched the blue sky. The enemy formation, finally realizing they were under attack, scattered in panic. At that moment, the twenty-six trailing planes swooped in.

In no time, a chaotic melee ensued, with friend and foe tangled in a swirling battle.

── Spot the enemy and kill them.

Take down any enemy that comes into sight. In such a melee, that was the most effective approach. Sugino and Matsuda broke formation and each headed toward their targets.

Cutting down the weak soldiers from within.

Chijiwa fought with an overwhelming intensity, outclassing all the others. Three planes, four planes—the number of kills quickly mounted.

Every time he spotted an enemy, he closed in, firing from a sure-kill distance and taking them down in a single volley, like drawing a sword in one smooth motion. Without even watching the planes he shot down fall, he moved on to the next prey, cutting them down with the sharp, deadly precision of a strike.

If these had been the usual opponents, they would have fled in disarray, but today's enemy was more tenacious. Even after witnessing Chijiwa’s extraordinary skill, they did not retreat and continued to attack. It seemed that the best pilots from all squadrons had been sent to La Vista Airfield, making today’s opponents tougher than usual. Sugino and Matsuda were desperately fending off the attacking enemy planes, but some managed to slip through and fire at Chijiwa.

── Seagull?

He had hoped it was Seagull, but it quickly became clear that it wasn’t. It was like the way judo black belts could only gauge each other’s strength after locking grips. The opponent's skill wasn’t clear at first glance, but once the bullets flew, their level of skill was immediately apparent by how they dodged. Skilled pilots dodged to the side the moment they were shot at, while weaker ones, unable to avoid the shots, would just look around cluelessly, searching for where they were being attacked. Such carelessness in the middle of an air battle sealed their fate.

── No.

After slashing through the weaker enemies, leaving an explosion in his wake, Chijiwa’s cold eyes scanned the skies. He couldn’t help but search for Seagull among the enemy formations.

── It would be easier if I could recognize Seagull at a glance.

He thought selfishly. Just like how he painted a beagle on his own plane, he wished Seagull would put some kind of distinctive mark on their aircraft, so he could spot them right away. It was too much trouble to have to engage them to know their skill level.

── What a bother.

Blowing up the enemy before him without a second thought, Chijiwa inexplicably grew irritated.

No matter how many enemies he shot down, he felt a gnawing hunger. He had already taken down seven planes today. He should have felt satisfied, but the more weak enemies he dispatched, the more his thirst grew.

Since that duel with Seagull, Chijiwa’s inner self had been rewritten.

── I won’t be able to quench this thirst unless I take down Seagull.

That single defeat etched into the sky.

The shame increased with each passing day. He couldn’t wash away the bitterness.

And alongside that shame, the desire to face that man again, under equal conditions, burned even stronger.

Not chasing down a reconnaissance plane with a squadron.

But facing each other in fighter planes, with the goal of shooting the other down.

If the strongest warriors from both sides could step forward and fight one-on-one under equal conditions.

That moment would surely be a blissful one. He would wish for that moment to never end.

── I want to win that duel.

In the heat of air combat, where not even a moment's carelessness was allowed, Chijiwa found himself lost in such thoughts.

No matter how skilled, if one neglected the enemy before them and played around with memories of Seagull, they would be taken from behind.

"Nu."

Chijiwa realized his own lapse.

One enemy fighter had crept up behind him. Sugino and Matsuda had been separated in the melee, and they were no longer flying in formation.

"Ugh!"

He increased his speed. But the enemy clung tightly to his tail, firing its 15mm machine guns. As he dodged with footbar manoeuvres, he glanced back. The enemy was about 130 meters behind. Not that skilled, but they had the guts to stick to him, determined not to give up the advantageous position they had gained.

── I was careless.

Acknowledging that, Chijiwa increased his speed before pulling up to ascend.

It was a somewhat diagonal loop. The enemy followed closely.

── I’d prefer not to use this.

── But I have no choice.

What he was about to do was a last resort for a fighter pilot. Ideally, air combat involved spotting the enemy first, sneaking up undetected, and taking them down in one strike. Once the enemy had you in their sights and started tailing you, using a special technique was far from ideal. While silently berating himself for his lapse, Chijiwa eased the left footbar and kicked the right footbar at the apex of his loop.

The plane slid sideways, and he gently tilted the control stick, slightly lowering the right wing.

The inverted aircraft, on the verge of stalling, entered a peculiar floating state, like a car drifting through the air.

The pursuing enemy fighter surged forward.

Chijiwa found himself staring at the exposed belly of the enemy plane as it floated ahead.

── Left roll.

The Imperial Navy’s top-class aerial combat technique.

Lesser pilots would stall if they tried it. But Chijiwa’s precision caused the aircraft to hover in the air as if suspended by invisible strings.

Without a moment's hesitation, Chijiwa unloaded his 30mm machine guns into the enemy’s flank, blowing it to pieces. Through the canopy, he caught a glimpse of the enemy pilot looking ahead with a puzzled expression, likely unaware of what had happened. He perished in flames without knowing his fate.

── Seagull.

Seagull had pulled off the same left roll manoeuvre right in front of Chijiwa. But not in a fighter plane—in a reconnaissance aircraft. Chijiwa barely predicted Seagull’s move and countered with the same technique, but just as he thought he had won, the future queen, Fana, had shot him down.

── The Ismael Turn.

Apparently, in the Levamme Imperial Air Force, they called the left roll manoeuvre the Ismael Turn. The memory of Seagull’s Ismael Turn was still etched in Chijiwa’s mind. Just remembering it made him feel awestruck—it had been such a graceful turn.

── I want to dance with you again.

Once more, Chijiwa found himself thinking such things in the midst of air combat.

Only able to see her in photographs, that graceful, pure demeanour. Her delicate features and long black hair that shimmered with strands of light. Her slender figure, with curves reminiscent of a stringed instrument. The modest, gentle, and refined way she spoke on the radio. As a navy lieutenant, he shouldn’t be giddy like a child over the visit of a mere female singer in the midst of this war, yet he found himself wondering if he might be able to slip in and get an autograph amidst the commotion.

── Chijiwa must be elated.

For some reason, that man was also a fan of Mizumori Misora. If, by some chance, the title of "Ace of the Amatsukami Navy" had an effect, and Mizumori Misora and Chijiwa ended up in the same photograph, the flames of jealousy would undoubtedly consume him. Just imagining it made him grit his teeth.

── Ridiculous.

── This is ridiculous, Hasami Shinichi. Are you really such a small man?

Taking a deep breath while lying down, Hasami chastised himself for his weakness. Yet, if he let his guard down, his face would return to a grin, and his thoughts would drift to playful fantasies about Mizumori Misora.

The next morning.

Chijiwa lay in his bed, listening to Mizumori Misora’s record. Then,

“Lieutenant───!!”

Sugino burst into the room, shouting, and stood stiffly at attention, his voice booming through the walls.

“Lieutenant, something terrible has happened! This is a catastrophe! Heaven and earth are about to be flipped upside down!”

“Be quiet.”

“Yes, sir!”

Sugino immediately fell silent, sweat dripping down his face, standing motionless. He was clearly very agitated, breathing heavily through his mouth.

“Leave.”

“Yes, sir!”

At the order, Sugino swiftly turned on his heel and left.

After Sugino left the barracks, Chijiwa closed his eyes and continued listening to Misora’s song. This time, Matsuda approached and stood stiffly at his side, his voice firm and composed.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant!”

“What is it?”

“Permission to report, sir!”

“Speak.”

“Lieutenant───!!”

Just as Matsuda opened his mouth to speak, Sugino ran in from behind, his eyes brimming with tears. It seemed he had been hiding behind the door, listening in. With a sorrowful expression, he stood next to Matsuda and raised his voice desperately.

“Why!? Why was I dismissed while Matsuda is allowed to report!?”

“Because you’re too intense.”

“That’s cruel! It’s too much! We’re in the same squad, but we’re treated so differently!”

“Be quiet.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Leave.”

“Yes, sir!”

Sugino, wiping his nose, swiftly left.

“So, what is your report?”

Chijiwa asked from his bed. Matsuda, feeling slightly awkward, cleared his throat and relayed what he had heard from their fellow non-commissioned officers.

“I heard from Captain Hasami that in one week, Mizumori Misora will be visiting our Otonashi Air Squadron.”

“…………”

Chijiwa remained silent, staring at the ceiling.

“Everyone is very excited. It seems an exchange meeting will be arranged, and we’ll get to hear her sing in person.”

“…………”

“Mizumori herself strongly requested to visit our squadron, and it’s said that since you’re the ace of our squadron, you may even meet her in person. If she finds out you’re a fan of her records, I’m sure she’ll be delighted.”

Matsuda smiled as he said this, glancing at Chijiwa’s face, and noticed something was off.

“Lieutenant?”

Matsuda had expected Chijiwa to be overjoyed. He had come to report in secret, hoping to see his respected squad leader’s happy reaction.

But Chijiwa’s face had turned pale.

He looked more ashen than Matsuda had ever seen, his eyes wide open, frozen as he stared at the ceiling.

“Uh, are you feeling unwell?”

“…………”

“Lieutenant, your complexion is… that…”

Matsuda had never seen Chijiwa like this before. Even in the heat of battle, Chijiwa was always calm and collected, fearless. But now, after hearing about Mizumori Misora’s visit, the blood had drained from his face.

Slowly, Chijiwa sat up.

He lowered his feet to the edge of the bed, placing a hand on his forehead as he looked down, deep in thought. His actions conveyed an unexpected emotion—fear.

“…Lieutenant?”

Matsuda timidly called out to the unmoving Chijiwa. After a long, far too long silence, Chijiwa finally spoke, still with his face downcast.

“…Tell them I’m not here.”

“…What?”

“Tell Mizumori that Chijiwa Takeo isn’t in the Otonashi Air Squadron. Say I’m gone.”

Matsuda’s usually sharp mind was thrown into confusion. He had no idea what Chijiwa was talking about.

“Not here…? But Lieutenant, you’re the ace of our squadron.”

“If Mizumori believes it, that’s fine. Chijiwa isn’t here. He’s gone. No, he’s probably dead somewhere. Tell her that.”

Matsuda finally realized that Chijiwa was in a state of panic. As he hesitated to respond, the door to the barracks suddenly slammed open, and Hasami stormed in, his face twisted in anger.

“Is Chijiwa hereee?!”

Matsuda stood at attention and replied sharply, while Hasami, still fuming, strode over with large steps.

“You! What have you done?! Did you send Mizumori Misora a fan letter or something?! I won’t forgive you for going behind my back, you coward!”

Hasami shouted, his rage palpable as he grabbed Chijiwa’s collar, shaking him.

Chijiwa, still holding his head in his hand, didn’t even look up.

“…What is it now?”

“Why did Mizumori personally request to take a sightseeing flight with you?! Explain yourself!”

Hasami demanded, practically out of breath after his tirade.

Chijiwa, still silent, finally lifted his hand from his forehead and looked up at Hasami with a tired expression.

“A sightseeing flight… with just the two of us?”

His voice was hoarse, like that of a dying old woman. This was the man who always descended from the fiercest air battles with a cool, composed expression, now reduced to a haggard figure.

“Mizumori insists on sitting in the rear seat of the ace’s plane! The commander approved it as a way to promote our squadron! Why you?! Why does it have to be you when I’m also a squad captain and a lieutenant?!”

Stomping his feet like a child, Hasami’s frustration boiled over. But Chijiwa let out a long sigh, then suddenly stood up, grabbing Hasami’s shoulders with both hands and shaking him.

“Y-You take my place…! You’re right, you should take her! You’re a perfect match! Fly with her, I’m going back to the Kumo-tsuru Squadron!”

As Hasami was shaken back and forth, he widened his eyes.

“W-What are you talking about?! Wait, wait… yes, you’re right! If you insist, I’ll take her instead! But wait, that’s not what this is about! Why did she choose you?!”

Hasami, furious again, grabbed Chijiwa’s collar and began to choke him.

“…Hasa…mi… I’m… choking…”

“Why does a rough, insensitive brute like you get to fly with Mizumori Misora, huh?! What have you done to deserve this, you bastard?!”

As the two clearly deranged lieutenants quarrelled, Matsuda bravely intervened. Other non-commissioned officers, hearing the commotion, rushed in to separate the two, holding them back before they could begin a full-on fight.

“Take my place! I’ll leave the island before Mizumori arrives!”

“Why you?! Why does it have to be you?!”

Even as they were dragged away by their comrades, the two continued to hurl angry words at each other like bickering dogs.

After several air battles and the passing of regular days, the familiar sound of the morning bell rang.

“They sure come often.”

Matsuda, resting in the barracks, muttered quietly.

“I wanted to fight!”

Sugino, also frustrated, glanced out the window. The morning sky was already filled with aircraft taking off to intercept the enemy.

The loudspeakers announced the enemy’s details. It was a formation of about twenty planes from the island of Scion, not a particularly large-scale attack.

The three members of Chijiwa’s squadron were in the barracks, so they couldn’t participate in the interception. The other pilots, stationed in the standby area, were likely racing to their planes. The fighter squadrons were divided into morning and afternoon shifts, alternating on standby.

Chijiwa, looking annoyed, stopped the phonograph and got up reluctantly.

“Lieutenant, let’s head to the air-raid shelter.”

Matsuda urged, but Chijiwa raised a hand to stop him.

“No, the forest will do today.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“The air-raid shelter is too stuffy.”

“Then let’s all go to the coconut grove!”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Frankly, you’re more stifling than the shelter.”

“Lieutenant!”

“Sugino, calm down… Understood, then we’ll take shelter. Please, Lieutenant, stay safe. Today is an important day, so please return as soon as the battle is over…”

“…………”

As Matsuda finished speaking, a crestfallen, spiritless air seemed to envelop Chijiwa. Realizing he had said too much, Matsuda hurried to correct his words.

“No, I mean, of course, if you’re not feeling well today, you may not come out of the forest… yes. That would be understandable. We’ll take our leave now…”

Dragging Sugino by the neck, Matsuda hastily retreated from the barracks.

Chijiwa managed to regain his composure and left the building, heading for the coconut grove.

If the enemy managed to bomb the base, their target would be the runway, hangars, command posts, or barracks—military facilities. As long as he stayed in the grove, there was no risk of being targeted. Besides, the bombers would be driven off by the Shinden squadron before they reached the airfield, so bombing rarely occurred.

The dense tropical forest surrounded him. Inhaling the strong scent of sheep’s teeth, he looked up to see the blue sky through the jagged green leaves. Amid the bird songs, the distant roar of propellers echoed overhead.

He silently trudged forward, cutting through the underbrush. After about ten minutes, he emerged from the forest.

Before him lay a cliff. Green coral reefs jutted out from the azure sea. Below, about twenty meters down, gentle waves lapped against the rocky shoreline.

In the sky about ten thousand meters away, he could see friendly aircraft attacking the enemy. Chijiwa stood and watched the Shinden squadron's assault. The Imperial forces had the advantage in numbers, skill, and equipment. The large enemy bombers were torn apart by the Shinden’s machine guns, falling one after another into the sea, trailing long grey plumes. As twenty or so Shinden planes launched repeated attacks, the enemy eventually turned tail and fled. Spurred on by their success, the Shinden squadron pursued them. La Vista Airfield was about five hundred kilometres away, but with the Shinden’s range, they could engage the enemy and return home.

Chijiwa sat on the edge of the cliff, gazing at the now-peaceful sky.

Looking out over the sea from such a height naturally brought to mind memories of Battleship Island.

It had been about eight years since he left the island as part of the first class of aviation cadets.

So much had changed.

A deep sense of nostalgia welled up within him, a faint longing he hadn’t felt in a long time.

That afternoon, Chijiwa remained alone at the cliffside.

He lay back, legs dangling over the edge, and gazed up at the clear sky.

In the afternoon, Chijiwa was supposed to go to the pilot standby station at Miyako and Harubaru Airfield, but for various reasons, he didn’t want to go. Even if there was an enemy attack, there were fewer operational aircraft than there were pilots on standby, so it would become a game of musical chairs, with the fastest person winning. Having always secured a plane in the past, Chijiwa decided that today he would let the other pilots have their turn and made up his mind to take a nap with his hands behind his head. He reasoned with himself that after a week of dodging bullets on the battlefield every day, it wouldn’t hurt to rest for just one day.

The sun began its slow descent from the southern sky.

Listening to the gentle sound of the sea and the birds calling to one another, bathed in the warm sunlight, Chijiwa lay still, waiting for sleep to come. It was incredibly peaceful, the quiet enveloping him, a long-awaited rest, yet sleep refused to come.

── Has she arrived by now?

── I hope everything stays calm.

He couldn’t stop worrying about the situation at the base. What concerned him most was Hasami. That man seemed to be a fan of Mizumori Misora, but…

Just as he was about to close his eyes in worry,

“There you are!!”

A sudden, shrill voice struck from behind like a whip, causing him to jump up in surprise.

“So you were here after all, Chijiwa! I’ve been looking for you!”

Turning around, Chijiwa saw Hasami standing there, his face tense, speaking in an unnaturally casual and exaggerated tone.

“………………”

Chijiwa shot his colleague the coldest glare imaginable before shifting his gaze behind him.

From the shadows of the coconut grove, a woman appeared.

“I found him! This is the man you were looking for, Chijiwa, the ace of our squadron!” Hasami proudly announced to the woman, his voice filled with nervousness, as he saluted her.

Her long black hair reached just past her shoulders, and her clear blue eyes were like the autumn sky. She wore a white blouse with a navy-blue chest decoration, and a matching navy skirt, the hem fluttering in the sea breeze.

It was none other than Mizumori Misora, standing there in her elegant attire.

She had apparently already arrived at the Trevas Atoll.

“………………”

Chijiwa’s expression twisted.

Misora stood silently for a moment, showing no emotion as she looked directly at Chijiwa.

“………………”

“………………”

Neither of them said a word.

Misora continued to stare at Chijiwa expressionlessly, while Chijiwa averted his eyes in discomfort. When his gaze landed on Hasami, he glared at his colleague with such intensity it could pierce through him.

Even the dull-witted Hasami finally realized something was off between the two.

“Um, is something wrong…?”

Misora looked up at Hasami, smiling sweetly. It was the kind of smile that could be captured on film and shown to the world, but it was directed only at Hasami.

Hasami felt as if a cannonball had torn through his chest.

“Pilot, thank you so much for guiding me here. You’ve been a tremendous help.”

Her voice was refined, soothing like a clear stream, and it was meant for Hasami alone. Hasami’s expression softened more than ever before.

“Oh, no, this was nothing at all.”

“I would like to speak with him alone for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

“Huh…? You and Chijiwa, alone…?”

Misora looked apologetic, her face showing a hint of sadness.

“…I’m sorry. There’s something I absolutely must ask him…”

Her voice was filled with delicate sorrow, and it wrapped around Hasami’s mind like a vine, causing him to be completely captivated.

“My apologies! I should’ve been more considerate…! Please excuse me!”

As he turned to leave, Chijiwa’s request stopped him.

“No, Hasami, I want you to stay.”

Hasami turned back, his face showing confusion.

Chijiwa, his expression serious, spoke in a tone more sombre than Hasami had ever heard before.

“I need you here. I need you.”

A chill ran down Hasami’s spine. Misora’s request had been easy to comply with, but Chijiwa’s plea filled him with a deep sense of unease and discomfort.

“Excuse me!!”

Ignoring his colleague's plea, Hasami quickly left, holding back the urge to vomit.

Now, only Misora and Chijiwa remained on the cliff.

“………………”

“………………”

The sound of the sea and the birds filled the silence between them.

Misora continued to gaze at Chijiwa, who still avoided her eyes awkwardly.

But slowly, Misora’s shoulders began to rise, her legs spread wide as she planted her feet firmly on the ground, and she placed her hands on her hips.

The graceful, refined image of the lady singing with birds by the window was gone. No, the figure of the beloved national singer, Mizumori Misora, had completely vanished.

Now, standing before Chijiwa in open anger, was Yuki Yoshioka, the woman who had once kicked thugs to the curb on a remote island.

“Do you have an excuse?”

Her cold, sharp words came from the mouth of the 20-year-old Yuki. Chijiwa looked down.

“…I tried to… do my best…”

Mumbling his words, he then gathered his resolve and looked up at Yuki.

“…Go ahead and hit me.”

Without hesitation, Yuki took a large step forward, biting her lip hard. Instead of slapping him, she clenched her right fist tightly and struck Chijiwa’s left cheek with all her might.

“Guh…”

Yuki had fought plenty of times on Battleship Island. Her punch was practiced and powerful.

“You idiot, you fool, you’re such an idiot, Take-chan!”

Her voice turned tearful as she pounded Chijiwa’s chest with her fists.

“I was so worried! I couldn’t stop thinking about it, I couldn’t sleep at night!”

Yuki let out all her pent-up emotions, while Chijiwa remained silent.

“I thought you might have died! I even called the air squadron to ask!”

“…………”

“You promised!”

“…………”

“You said you’d write me letters!”

She continued to hit Chijiwa’s chest with her fists.

“Ever since the war started, you haven’t written a single letter!”

As she struck him, Chijiwa groaned out a response.

“…In the military… all letters are… censored…”

“I wrote twenty letters in ten months!”

“…I read them all… I still have every one of them…”

“And you didn’t send a single reply!”

“…I’m sorry… I wanted to reply… but having others read my letters… I just couldn’t…”

Chijiwa could only repeat his apologies. All outgoing and incoming military letters were opened and checked before being delivered to their destination. The thought of that made Chijiwa reluctant to write back. He should have been more considerate of Yuki’s feelings, but even though he understood this logically, he just couldn’t bring himself to write a reply.

“You’re awful, awful, awful…”

Yuki didn’t hide her tears as she pounded Chijiwa’s chest with her fists.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was wrong…”

Chijiwa continued to apologize. Even as Yuki grew tired and dropped her fists, resting her forehead against his chest and crying, all he could do was keep apologizing.

“Well, I figured you wouldn’t write any letters, knowing you.”

Yuki had already returned to her usual self, sitting next to Chijiwa on the cliff, staring out at the deep blue sea. Her long black hair fluttered in the sea breeze. To hide her identity as a Vestad, Yuki had dyed her golden hair black.

“I wanted to write… but…”

“It’s fine. I figured it was something like that.”

As she spoke, Yuki playfully rubbed her fist against Chijiwa’s cheek.

“But I really was worried. I couldn’t stop thinking about it every day. I even thought about quitting my job.”

Chijiwa, surprised, looked at Yuki while she rubbed his cheek.

“Why would you quit?”

“I wouldn’t really quit. That’s just how worried I was.”

“I see. As long as you didn’t actually quit, that’s fine.”

Relieved, Chijiwa turned his gaze back to the sea. Yuki, still seated beside him, looked up at Chijiwa’s face with dissatisfaction.

“You’re so dense… Seriously, how can you be this clueless?” “……?”

“Nothing.”

“…Shouldn’t you be heading back to the base? I heard your colleagues came along too.”

“Oh, yeah. After this, I’ve got to greet some important people, take some pictures, and then, the highlight of the day! A sightseeing flight with the Ace of Aces!”

Chijiwa’s head drooped forward at her words.

“…That. I don’t understand. Why do I have to do something like that?”

“Huh? Take-chan, don’t you want to? You promised we’d fly together ages ago.”

Yuki puffed out her cheeks. Chijiwa searched his memory and indeed recalled making such a promise back on Battleship Island after passing the aviation cadet test.

That was nearly eight years ago.

Yuki still remembered something like that?

“I’ve been looking forward to it this whole time. But no matter how long I waited, you never invited me. So, I pulled some strings to make sure you couldn’t escape.”

Chijiwa sighed, turning an exasperated expression toward Yuki.

“It’s wartime. …I have colleagues and subordinates. …If I take a woman flying, people will talk.”

“Who cares? Let them talk.”

“Besides, you have a very visible career. Not just visible—you’re the most famous person in Amatsukami. If I take you flying, people will start prying into our business.”

“Let them pry.”

“…You. What would you even say if someone asked what our relationship is?”

At those words, Yuki’s eyes gleamed as she stretched her neck forward, peering up at Chijiwa’s downturned face from below.

“What kind of relationship do we have, Take-chan?”

Chijiwa furrowed his brow, confused by the question.

“Relationship? …Well…”

He fell silent for a moment before tilting his head slightly.

“…I don’t know.”

Yuki’s hopeful expression gradually dimmed, and eventually, she sighed in disappointment.

“Hopeless.”

“…What?”

“Take-chan, you really have no talent besides flying, huh?”

“……………………”

“You don’t understand people’s feelings, do you?”

“How could I possibly?”

“You’re even confident about it! Well, I guess that’s just how you’ve always been. Sigh…”

Resigning herself, Yuki stood up and stretched. Then, as if to regain her composure, she smiled.

“Well, at least I’m glad I got to see you. It’s been about a year, right? I was really worried since we hadn’t had any contact since the war started.”

“…I tried to let you know I was alive. From now on, at the very least, I’ll write just to say that.”

“You don’t have to write anything fancy. Just tell me what you ate, how the weather was, or even just ‘A’ or ‘U’ or whatever. As long as I know you’re alive. I’m serious—I worry about you every day, you know?”

“…I’m sorry. …I didn’t want to make you worry.”

“Let me fly with you, and I’ll forgive you. So, just give in.”

Chijiwa scowled and reluctantly nodded. Yuki beamed and wrapped her arm around his.

“Hey…”

“It’s fine. Just while we’re walking through the forest. I’ll let go if anyone’s around.”

“………………”

Yuki happily linked her arm with Chijiwa’s, leaning closer to him. The scent of her hair, reminiscent of fresh citrus, reminded him of a warmth he had forgotten amidst the long days of war. For a moment, a sense of comfort washed over him, soothing the weariness inside.

Evening──.

“Smile! Pilot, please smile!”

Surrounded by a crowd of photographers and entertainment industry representatives, Chijiwa’s face twitched as he endured the countless flashes from strobes.

In front of the twin-seat reconnaissance plane, Saikaze, that they were about to take for a sightseeing flight, Misora was standing nearby, smiling for the camera with practiced ease.

Squinting against the blinding flashes, Chijiwa glanced around the airfield.

Every pilot, every mechanic, and every ground crew member at the airfield were casting envious looks in his direction.

He could feel their silent jealousy seeping toward him. "Why Chijiwa?" "Why with Mizumori Misora?" "How did he get to go on a sightseeing flight with her?" Thoughts like "Lucky him, I wish I could go," "I want to go too," "I’d love to," and "Even though he’ll just sit there in silence…" seemed to fill the air. The situation made him feel incredibly uncomfortable.

As the wind blew gently across the runway, Commander Shirase stepped forward and joined Chijiwa and Yuki for a commemorative photo.

“Well then, for a little while, show Mizumori around the skies. I trust in your flying skills.”

Chijiwa straightened his back, managing to respond with a stiff reply.

“Yes, sir.”

“Please take care of me, Lieutenant Chijiwa,” Yuki said, lowering her head politely with her usual refined tone.

“As you wish. He’s the ace of our squadron. It’ll be night soon, so there should be no enemy attacks. Please enjoy the skies over Miyako and Harubaru.”

After saying that, Commander Shirase helped Yuki board the rear seat of the Saikaze before Chijiwa climbed into the front seat.

“Don’t make that sour face. It’s the ace and the nation’s favorited singer—it’s a great combination. This is a chance to let the people know about the Otonashi Air Squadron, so make the most of it.”

Seeing through Chijiwa’s mood, Commander Shirase leaned in and spoke quietly. Reporters with movie cameras were already filming the event, and in a few days, footage of the ace and Mizumori Misora’s flight would be shown in cinemas across Amatsukami. After watching it, many young people would likely dream of becoming renowned warriors like Chijiwa, making their mark on the battlefield.

“…I’ll do my best.”

After Commander Shirase stepped back and the mechanics cleared away, Chijiwa started up the hydrogen fuel cell stack. The DC motor began to hum, and the plane vibrated gently.

At that moment, the communication tube buzzed.

“Hellooo. Is this Take-chan?”

Chijiwa grimaced and picked up the tube.

“If you talk unnecessarily during the flight, you’ll bite your tongue. Keep your chatter to a minimum.”

“This is the captain speaking. Take-chan, please respond.”

“Listen to what I’m saying.”

“Fly higher than the clouds. You need to fulfill that promise from eight years ago.”

Yuki’s words, playfully exaggerated, made Chijiwa scowl as he began the taxi. In no time, they reached take-off speed, and the Saikaze’s wheels lifted off the red dirt runway.

“Wow!”

Yuki exclaimed in excitement. The sensation of flying in a carrier-based plane was entirely different from that of a large aircraft or airship. Unlike the restricted view from a small passenger window, the tear-shaped canopy provided a 360-degree view of the sky. Beyond the thin layer of organic glass was nothing but sky, and the plane's vibrations were felt through both the seatback and the soles of their feet.

The pleasant pull of positive Gs pressed against Yuki’s body as the propeller’s roar filled the air like a fanfare. The Saikaze climbed the steps of the evening sky at a leisurely pace.

Looking down, the Miyako and Harubaru base grew smaller in the distance, and the entire Trevas Atoll came into view. The coral reef surrounding the central island cast a jade-coloured glow across the dimming sea.

“Amazing, it’s so beautiful!”

Yuki’s voice came through the communication tube. In return, Chijiwa’s reply was just a dismissive grunt. At an altitude of 3,000 meters, the Saikaze gently circled above the atoll.

“Take-chan, you’re flying! This is incredible, you’re really flying!”

“…Of course I am.”

The setting sun on the western horizon circled around the canopy, casting a crimson light over Yuki’s smiling face.

It was like a bonfire had been lit beyond the horizon, spreading its red hues across the world.

“So beautiful…”

Her voice trailed off in awe. It was a sunset unlike any Yuki had ever seen before, a moment in time that existed only for the two of them, bathed in red.

“This is incredible, Take-chan. Do you always get to see sights like this?”

“…I don’t look at the scenery.”

“Huh? You don’t look at the view?”

“In the sky… I’m always looking for enemy planes.”

“Oh… I see. Right, because of the war…”

“…But it’s fine now. You can forget about the war for a moment.”

Chijiwa’s low voice echoed through the communication tube.

“Oh… okay. Thank you. Yeah, let’s take a break for now.”

Brightening up, Yuki turned her gaze back to the sunset.

“The sea and the sunset. It reminds me of Battleship Island.”

“…Yeah.”

“We both made our dreams come true.”

“…I guess we did.”

“Thinking about it now, we’ve come a long way. I never imagined eight years ago that I’d be flying over the front lines with you like this.”

Yuki glanced at the setting sun.

The view from 4,500 meters up was breathtaking, the word “majestic” fitting perfectly. It was as if the horizon was ablaze, burning bright with the red hues of the sunset. The red sky spilled over into the silver sea below, like molten metal spreading across a melting disc.

“Wow…”

It was a mystical sight. The clouds between the Saikaze and the setting sun were bathed in the ethereal light of the boundary between day and night, taking on strange colours. Far below, a flock of birds glided effortlessly between the islands.

“This is amazing. The sky looks so different from up here than it does from an airship. It feels so close and vast.”

“…………”

“Thanks, Take-chan. I’m really happy right now. This might be the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“…………”

“Here, where no one can hear us, I could even sing a Levamme song. Should I sing one of your favourites? The one I used to sing a lot on that hill.”

“No… that’s fine.”

“Why not? Don’t be shy. We’re finally alone. Besides, I don’t often get the chance to sing Levamme songs out in the open.”

“…Yuki.”

“Hm? Oh, you called my name? What is it?”

After a brief pause, Chijiwa’s heavy, low voice came through the communication tube.

“…Don’t you have… anyone?”

“Huh? Anyone? …What do you mean by ‘anyone’?”

“…You know… someone. …Someone like that.”

“Like that? Who?”

“…Someone you’re close to. Personally.”

“Ohhh. Are you asking if I have a boyfriend or something?”

“…………”

The silence that followed hinted that Chijiwa was nodding in the affirmative.

In that moment, Yuki’s expression broke into a wide smile, her tone filled with amusement.

“I don’t! I’m completely single! My agency has an impenetrable barrier around me. The moment a guy comes near, they’re as good as dead. Even arranging this took a lot of careful planning—otherwise, it wouldn’t have been possible.”

“…………”

“Hey, hey, hey, are you worried? Worried that I’m seeing someone? Hey, Take-chan, are you seriously worried about that?”

Yuki leaned forward in her seat and shouted toward Chijiwa without even using the communication tube.

Chijiwa didn’t look back. He just sat there, holding the control stick in his right hand and the communication tube in his left.

“…Yuki.”

“Yeah?”

“…I think… you should… find someone in the mainland.”

“Huh?”

“…Someone who’ll stay with you. Someone who’ll make you happy.”

“……………………”

“…You deserve to be happy.”

“……………………”

“You shouldn’t be out here. …Not in a place like this.”

For once, Chijiwa’s words were clear and direct.

Yuki remained silent, listening to his voice through the communication tube. The sound of the wind and the hum of the propellers seemed distant.

“…What’s that supposed to mean? …That’s weird.”

“If you stay with me… you’ll only end up unhappy.”

“……………………”

“You should find someone… someone who can make you happy.”

“……………………”

“When that happens… I’ll be happy too.”

“……………………”

“A man who would make you chase after him to a warzone… isn’t right for you.”

“……………………Ha.”

Yuki let out a breath she had been holding. Then, grabbing the communication tube with force, she spoke firmly.

“What’s that supposed to mean? It’s not like I came here just to see you, Take-chan. I only came because it was for work.”

“……………………”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m super popular. There are plenty of kind, considerate people who approach me.”

“……………………”

“It’s true! I’m not lying.”

The edge of Yuki’s voice cracked slightly as she tried to sound tough.

“……………………”

“Even today, a lot of cool pilots at the base asked me for autographs. The lieutenant who guided me to you… what was his name again? Usagi-san or something, he was really kind and gentlemanly.”

“……Hasami.”

“Yeah, Lieutenant Hasami. He was way more thoughtful and manly than you…”

Yuki’s voice faltered as she reached that point, and she sniffled. Breathing heavily, she gripped the communication tube tightly.

“Idiot. Idiot. You idiot.”

“……………………”

“Take-chan, you’re such an idiot. Idiot. Idiot.”

Her voice grew tearful toward the end. Chijiwa stayed silent, receiving her insults with his back turned.

“Idiot. Just die. Fly up in the sky and die, idiot.”

Finally, Yuki broke down in tears, continuing to hurl insults as she cried. For Chijiwa, this was the hardest flight he had ever experienced. No intense training during his cadet days, nor any of the fierce aerial battles he had survived, compared to how painful this flight felt now.

As the Saikaze landed on the runway, a crowd of people approached with smiles. Camera flashes went off, and Commander Shirase stood on the wing, opening the rear canopy.

Mizumori Misora, expressionless like a mask, stood up from the rear seat and, with Commander Shirase’s help, descended to the ground. When a reporter asked for her thoughts, she coldly responded with “It was fun,” and without so much as a glance at the ace pilot, she walked away down the runway.

Chijiwa disembarked from the wing by himself. Commander Shirase, looking concerned, approached him.

“What happened?”

“…I’m not good at handling women.”

“Did you say something wrong?”

“I said something foolish.”

“I see… I’ll smooth things over on my end. It’s understandable. You, living on the battlefield, and Mizumori, would have little in common to talk about.”

Commander Shirase, showing consideration for Chijiwa, turned and walked away.

Chijiwa gazed toward the direction where Yuki had disappeared, his expression heavy with sorrow.

──I’m sorry.

He could only apologize in silence.

──I’m truly sorry.

Though Yuki called him dense, Chijiwa wasn’t completely oblivious. Every time he sensed Yuki’s feelings, he felt a profound happiness.

But.

──I’m not the same person I was back on Battleship Island.

──Now, I’m consumed by aerial combat.

──I can’t think about anything else.

Whether flying or walking on the ground, his thoughts were always focused on aerial battles.

As his flight hours increased, elements of his daily life that had nothing to do with aerial combat naturally faded away.

He knew he was a terrible person. But the ongoing wartime life had undoubtedly invaded and damaged his inner self, forcing him to change.

That was the proof. Even after hurting Yuki.

He looked up toward the sky.

What he saw projected in the blue sky was not Yuki’s tear-streaked face.

What floated in the sky was the Seagull’s salute.

His chest was deeply gouged.

“I’m the worst kind of person.”

Yoshioka Yuki, the girl who had supported him since childhood and helped him achieve his dream of becoming a pilot. Without her, he probably wouldn’t have even dared to dream of becoming a pilot. Instead, he would still be working in the coal mines at the bottom of the sea, resigned to a life of drudgery.

And yet. Despite trampling on the feelings of someone so precious to him, all he could think about was shooting down an enemy pilot whose name he didn’t even know.

“I’m a terrible man.”

From the depths of his heart, he cursed himself.

Yuki was the most important person to him in this world. Honestly, he adored her. That’s why he wanted her to be with a decent man and live a happy life.

As he stared at the enduring salute floating in the corner of the sky, Chijiwa prayed sincerely for that.

The next day, Yuki returned to the mainland. There was no message left for Chijiwa. That was fine, he thought.

All that remained for him were the long days of battle ahead.

†††

The attrition war between the Otonashi Air Squadron at Trevas Atoll and the La Vista Air Squadron on Scion Island continued for another two months. The 500-kilometer distance between the two bases made it difficult for either side to inflict a decisive blow using only their air units. In each engagement, the Otonashi Air Squadron would emerge victorious, but the La Vista Air Squadron would quickly replenish their losses, erasing any impact from their defeat. Though the Otonashi Air Squadron kept winning battle after battle, their forces were steadily diminishing, as their supplies couldn’t keep up.

The difference in national power between Amatsukami and Levamme was tenfold. The longer the war dragged on, the more the gap in industrial capacity became apparent. The Otonashi Air Squadron’s forces dwindled while the La Vista Air Squadron’s strength continued to grow. This was a predictable outcome even before the war began.

For this reason, the Imperial Army needed to challenge the Levamme main fleet to a decisive battle soon.

By concentrating all their forces on one critical point and securing a victory in a short time, the Imperial Army aimed to crush the Levamme’s will to fight, leading the Levamme people to tire of the war and push for a ceasefire. This was the ultimate goal of the Imperial Army. With Amatsukami’s weaker national power, this was the only way to fend off the Levamme threat. The citizens of Amatsukami dreamed of invading and occupying Levamme, but with such a vast difference in strength, that was a fantasy. This wasn’t a war they could win. The purpose of this war was to ensure that Levamme wouldn’t interfere with Amatsukami. If Levamme tried, they would pay dearly. If Amatsukami could make them understand that on a fundamental level, the war could end.

About two months after Chijiwa and his comrades were transferred to the Otonashi Air Squadron──

The scent of an impending "decisive battle" was thick in the air over the Victoria Sea.

Since the war began in January of this year, the Amatsukami forces had achieved victory after victory on both land and sea, taking control of all Levamme bases in the Eastern Seas and isolating San Martilia. With the Levamme Eastern Expeditionary Division cut off from communication with the mainland, they quickly surrendered, bringing an end to San Martilia’s 60-year role as a bridgehead to the Eastern Continent.

The Imperial Army completed its first-stage operation—securing all Levamme strongholds in the Eastern Seas. The Emperor of Amatsukami, upon receiving the report from the General Command of the Military High Command, immediately ordered the renaming of San Martilia back to its original name, Tsunehino. He also forbade plundering or violence against civilians and commanded the initiation of the second-stage operation.

The final goal of the second-stage operation was the “destruction of the enemy’s mobile fleet in the Western Seas” and the “capture of Scion Island.”

Once this operation was completed, the Levamme’s will to fight would be completely shattered.

Some expressed concerns about the logistics of establishing military bases so far from home, but the Imperial Army’s overwhelming strength had intoxicated the public. After decades of patiently waiting and strengthening the nation, the exhilarating victories were a breath of fresh air. There was no public sentiment against further military expansion. Newspapers and radio broadcasts enthusiastically reported on the bravery of the Imperial soldiers, stoking dreams of an invasion of Levamme. When a fight looks winnable, no one wants to settle for a mere decision victory—they want to knock their opponent out, ensuring they never get back up. This natural inclination of war itself demanded further expansion of the frontlines.

At first, it resembled the drifting of stratocumulus clouds.

However, amidst the dawn light, it gradually began to reveal its outlines and started to devour the twilight. A mass of iron, so massive that it distorted space.

The early winter sea was shaken by the thunderous roar of lift devices, reminiscent of distant thunder.

Soon, a grand fleet of 54 vessels dominated the skies about 200 nautical miles off the coast of Scion Island.

The Yagami Mobile Fleet.

That was the name given to this fleet by the Naval General Staff.

The shining crests on the bows of the ships facing westward all bore the imperial emblem of Amatsukami. An assembly of air carriers, air battleships, light and heavy air cruisers, destroyers, torpedo boats, escort ships, and supply ships—every type of vessel imaginable was present, making it the largest force ever amassed in the history of Amatsukami.

December 9, Imperial Year 3210, 5:40 AM.

At the command of the fleet commander, Rear Admiral Takechika Yagami, aboard the flagship Boufu, the massive fleet divided into four squadrons, and the air dominance squadron consisting of 112 aircraft was first launched from the flight decks of all six assigned regular air carriers.

This marked the beginning of the world's first major aerial battle between aircraft carriers, later known as the Battle of the Victoria Sea.

For Amatsukami, this was the first time such a large fleet had been sent to the Western Sea, beyond the Great Waterfall. To ensure victory, the Imperial Army committed six of its seven regular air carriers to this operation, along with the "tiger cub" super dreadnought air battleships Hida and Settsu, which were part of the fourth squadron. The world’s largest air battleships, which had been kept in reserve, were now unveiled.

After the 112 aircraft in the air dominance squadron took off, 250 combined bombers and torpedo bombers were launched from the six carriers. The target was not the fleet but the base airfields, so the torpedo bombers were armed with bombs instead of torpedoes. The combined force of around 360 aircraft set off toward La Vista Airfield on Scion Island.

Soon after, fourteen escort fighters were launched from the deck of the regular air carrier Unkaku. As the leader of this escort formation, Chijiwa gripped the control stick. With the second-stage operation underway, Chijiwa had returned from the Otonashi Air Squadron to the Unkaku Air Squadron. It wasn’t uncommon for such minor transfers to happen during major operations.

There was no exhilaration.

In the skies of the battlefield, Chijiwa’s mind always became increasingly calm.

At an altitude of 6,700 meters, following behind the formation leader Shinichi Hasami, his ever-watchful eyes were fixed on the sky and sea. Glancing into the distance, Chijiwa saw other air carriers also launching their escort units, protecting the carriers at an altitude of around 4,000 meters as per textbook procedures. Chijiwa ascended higher than the others, intending to attack from an advantageous altitude if they encountered the enemy.

Chijiwa’s wingmen, Sugino and Matsuda, were still by his sides. Whether in the air or on the ground, they had trained and lived together, knowing each other’s thoughts and actions. The impressive number of aircraft Chijiwa had shot down was a shared accomplishment of these three.

Chijiwa directed his sharp gaze toward the dawn sky.

The red on the horizon gradually faded, and the sun, once resembling an egg yolk, began to take on a brass hue.

Two hours after take-off, the first attack squadron returned. They seemed to have successfully attacked the airfield, as both the bombers and torpedo bombers had dropped all their bombs. However, while the fighter squadrons were mostly intact, the number of bombers and torpedo bombers had been significantly reduced. The enemy, having detected the approach of the carrier fleet, had put up fierce resistance with interceptors and anti-aircraft fire, resulting in far more damage than previous air raids.

The large formation orderly descended in a spiral, demonstrating the results of their daily training, and began landing on their respective carriers. The six large carriers, having landed on the sea surface to replenish their hydrogen fuel cells, were retrieving the aircraft.

While circling at an altitude of 6,000 meters, Chijiwa observed the deck of the Unkaku. He saw maintenance crews rushing about, rearming the returning torpedo bombers with new torpedoes.

It seemed that a reconnaissance plane had located the enemy’s mobile fleet.

Instead of air torpedoes, they were now loading naval torpedoes, indicating that the enemy was surface vessels, not airships. To maintain control of the Western Sea, it was more effective for the Imperial Navy to mass-produce surface vessels rather than build costly airships. If they planned to venture beyond the Great Waterfall, airships would be essential, but to hold the area on this side, surface vessels were sufficient. Thus, the Levamme Navy’s military strength in the Western Sea was vastly greater than in the Eastern Sea.

When attacking surface vessels, torpedoes, which could destroy below the waterline, were more effective than bombs. As Chijiwa focused on the deck below, he saw the crew loading the new oxygen torpedoes. These torpedoes had a much longer range than conventional torpedoes and could attack fleets anchored in shallow harbor waters, with much greater explosive power. One hit could sink a cruiser, and three hits could bring down a carrier or battleship. It was an incredibly powerful weapon.

The massive oxygen torpedoes, each six or seven meters long, were being suspended under the bellies of the torpedo bombers. The ground crews, knowing this was the critical moment, were working at an incredible pace, completing tasks in an hour that normally would have taken two.

But then──.

“…………?”

As he looked down at the deck of the Unkaku, Chijiwa tilted his head in confusion.

The ground crew had suddenly began removing the oxygen torpedoes they had been so diligently attaching.

Instead, they started bringing conventional bombs onto the deck. The crew began replacing the torpedoes with bombs.

“What are they doing……!”

Involuntarily, Chijiwa scolded them from above. Glancing over at the other carriers, he saw the same thing happening. The enemy fleet detection must have been a false report. The Yagami Fleet Commander had decided to launch a second attack on La Vista Airfield and suddenly ordered the rearmament. With the two mission objectives being the destruction of the enemy mobile fleet and the capture of Scion Island, this kind of confusion was inevitable.

This was the sort of idiocy Chijiwa had encountered numerous times from senior officers.

It was likely they feared wasting the oxygen torpedoes. Unlike cheap conventional bombs, oxygen torpedoes were so expensive that each one was carefully managed with a serial number. If the fleet didn’t find the enemy mobile fleet and had to return, the torpedoes would all have to be jettisoned into the sea since landing with them was impossible. The thought of dumping over a hundred expensive oxygen torpedoes terrified Rear Admiral Yagami.

Amatsukami was a poor nation. Its gross national product was less than one-tenth of Levamme’s, and the country constantly suffered from a shortage of supplies, making wartime logistics exceedingly difficult. Each torpedo was made with the blood, sweat, and tears of the empire’s citizens. Poor female factory workers from rural areas, under harsh labour conditions, worked for meagre wages to produce these torpedoes. Understandably, Yagami was reluctant to throw away a hundred such precious and costly weapons into the sea.

But.

──That’s the thinking of farmers!

To Rear Admiral Yagami, discarding a hundred oxygen torpedoes felt "wasteful." He also feared being held accountable later for the decision to dump them.

But this was a decisive battle, with the fate of the nation hanging in the balance. Everything the empire had endured was to secure victory on this day. To withhold crucial resources out of fear of waste or future retribution would be utterly absurd.

──Please, don’t come.

Glaring at the distant sky, Chijiwa prayed that the enemy wouldn’t come.

If they were attacked now, the six regular carriers would be utterly destroyed. Their decks were laden with both torpedoes and bombs. A single hit could trigger a chain reaction, turning these prized carriers into wreckage in the Western Sea. Moreover, the highly trained and skilled pilots, who had taken vast sums of money and time to develop, would die without even taking to the skies. If Amatsukami lost six regular carriers and its elite pilots, it would stand no chance of victory.

And, of course, a skilled enemy always appears when you hope they won’t.

──To the west.

“…………!!”

At a distance of roughly 20,000 meters, there was a faint glimmer of light.

He tilted his wings, signalling his allies. Sugino and Matsuda immediately noticed and signalled the 14-plane formation of the incoming enemy.

At the front of the formation, Hasami was looking around, still unable to spot the enemy. It wasn’t because Hasami was incompetent—rather, Chijiwa’s eyesight was extraordinary, able to detect enemy aircraft 20,000 meters away. Chijiwa moved in front of Hasami and signalled with hand gestures.

“I’ll lead. Follow me.”

Hasami begrudgingly nodded, and Chijiwa flipped his wings.

He sped directly westward. The other carrier’s escort units had not yet noticed the incoming attack. Only the Unkaku’s escort unit left the airspace above its carrier to intercept.

Maintaining an altitude of 6,000 meters, hidden within the clouds, Chijiwa crept toward the enemy.

Through the windshield, the shapes of the enemy aircraft gradually became clearer. They hadn’t noticed yet, flying in a straight line toward the Imperial fleet at an altitude of 1,000 meters.

Chijiwa steeled himself. Leading the charge was a squadron of around 30 Aires II fighters, followed by approximately 60 Levamme San Libera torpedo bombers. First, they needed to take down the entire Aires II squadron.

Chijiwa’s gaze sharpened with a chilling focus. Cold energy surged from his core.

It’s the inexperienced ones who get excited before a battle. True warriors grow ever colder.

He switched the firing mechanism from 30mm to the 13mm machine guns mounted on his control stick.

Even as they closed to within 5,000 meters, the enemy fighters had yet to notice them. Chijiwa pushed the control stick forward, diving down on the enemy fighter formation from above.

With minimal bursts, almost invisible, his first shot shattered the enemy cockpit. Sugino and Matsuda, flanking him, similarly dispatched their targets with a single 13mm shot.

Blood mixed with shards of shattered glass. Chijiwa’s flight unit broke through the enemy formation in an instant. Pulling up at 300 meters, they maintained their formation, pursuing the Aires II squadron.

At the same time, Hasami’s squadron of 11 planes descended like hornets, tearing into the Aires II fighters.

Fireballs ripped through the blue sky. Shards of metal burst apart as wings broke off, spinning away in the wrong direction.

A spiderweb of smoke and debris spread across the sky. Chijiwa plunged into the middle of the chaos, weaving through the scattering grey and brown clouds of destruction.

The roar of propellers filled the combat zone.

In a matter of moments, the autumn sky belonged to the Shinden squadron.

The entire Aires II squadron had been reduced to ripples on the sea.

Chijiwa cast a brief glance of pity toward the remaining Levamme torpedo bombers.

At this point, there was nothing they could do. Burdened with heavy torpedoes, torpedo bombers were no match for nimble fighters once targeted.

The fourteen planes of the Unkaku’s escort unit pounced on the sixty San Libera torpedo bombers. Soon after, the other carrier escort units, belatedly noticing the attack, rushed in to join the fray, bringing their seventy planes with them.

It was a massacre in the sky.

The carrier air squadrons from the six carriers competed with each other to claim kills, showering the San Libera bombers with machine gun fire. The pitiful torpedo bombers, showing no intention of fleeing, flew straight toward the Imperial carriers, as if determined to complete their mission, even while being hunted by the fighters. Their bravery was impressive. Just as the samurai spirit lived in Amatsukami, the Levamme pilots surely had their own knightly pride. Though they were the enemy, their courage was admirable. But the Shinden squadrons showed no mercy, relentlessly attacking from all angles and steadily racking up kills.

Chijiwa, too, joined in the hunt.

Without a drop of sweat on his palms, without any sign of bloodlust in his eyes, he methodically dispatched the enemy planes, like sweeping dust off a floor. It was clear this battle was a decisive victory for the Imperial carrier escort units.

But then──.

“…………?”

A cold, needle-like sensation pierced through Chijiwa’s mind.

Something beyond logic whispered into Chijiwa’s consciousness.

──This is a trap.

It was that strange voice he had heard occasionally since the age of fourteen, when he had worked in the undersea coal mines. His superior officers, including Hasami, referred to it as "Chijiwa's intuition."

But this wasn’t intuition.

He could actually hear a whisper.

The "voice" was pointing toward a large stratocumulus cloud at an altitude of 3,500 meters.

──Something is coming.

Chijiwa looked up in that direction. He saw no enemy aircraft, as the clouds obscured his view. The clouds weren’t thick, though, and there were gaps here and there where blue sky was visible.

Directly beneath that cloud mass were the ships of the first and second squadrons, including the six carriers. They were positioned close together, making it easier for the escort fighters to protect them.

But right now, all the escort units had left the airspace they were supposed to protect, chasing down the torpedo bombers. Compared to land-based squadrons, carrier-based air units had fewer opportunities for dogfights, and now, eager to prove their skills from over 1,000 hours of training, they were recklessly competing with one another like bullfighters, chasing after the torpedo bombers.

──No one is watching over the carriers.

A sense of foreboding brushed the back of his neck. He squinted his eyes at the stratocumulus cloud drifting over the carriers.

He saw nothing.

But despite that──.

──The torpedo bombers are just a decoy.

Something whispered it to him.

──The voice of the sky.

Chijiwa privately called it the "voice of the sky."

It was a guidance only he could hear, coming from the heavens.

──There’s no mistake.

It was by listening to and trusting this voice that Chijiwa had earned the title of ace pilot.

At that moment of certainty, Chijiwa jerked the control stick, executing a sharp turn and rapidly climbing. It was an abrupt departure from the battle. Sugino and Matsuda hurried to follow him.

Chijiwa gritted his teeth and opened the throttle, rushing past Hasami, who was still absorbed in the hunt.

──Notice, Hasami.

Waving his wings in a signal, Chijiwa pointed through his cockpit canopy toward the cloud at 3,500 meters, then sped directly toward it.

──Please. Bring the others and follow me.

The only person who could issue orders to the 14-plane formation through the intercom was the squadron leader, Hasami. As a demoted flight leader, Chijiwa could only receive commands. It frustrated him, but all he could do was fly toward the invisible enemy with all his might. Only Sugino and Matsuda followed. Behind them, Hasami watched Chijiwa’s manoeuvre with a puzzled look.

──Trust me, Hasami.

Leaving his prayers behind, Chijiwa charged straight toward the cloud.

Hasami watched Chijiwa’s departure with an exasperated look.

He was terrible at flying in formation. The role of the escort unit was to shoot down every last torpedo bomber, yet here was Chijiwa, rushing headlong toward an empty cloud.

Hasami squinted at the cloud Chijiwa was heading toward but saw no sign of the enemy. Why would Chijiwa abandon the enemy planes and fly toward that cloud?

──An ace pilot’s intuition.

That was probably what had hit him.

Chijiwa could sense things others couldn’t and spot hidden enemies through the clouds. That’s why Chijiwa was an ace pilot. As much as Hasami hated to admit it, he couldn’t deny Chijiwa’s aerial combat skills.

He was an insufferable man.

Arrogant, spiteful, constantly mocking his superiors, and utterly dismissive of military regulations. Most infuriatingly, he had flown with Mizumori Misora and made her cry, yet acted as if nothing had happened. Hasami had lost count of how many times he had cursed having such a man as a colleague.

But while he was insufferable and Hasami often wanted to strangle him, there was no one more dependable on the battlefield.

And now, that man was turning his back on the hunt to rush toward an empty cloud.

He wouldn’t do something like this without reason. There had to be a purpose.

──On the ground, Chijiwa is the worst.

──But in the sky, he’s trustworthy.

No one understood that better than Hasami. Since the beginning of the war, he had flown in the same squadron as Chijiwa, sharing the same responsibilities as a squadron leader.

──If Chijiwa is heading there, the enemy is there.

Even without evidence, Hasami felt sure of it.

He gritted his teeth and grabbed the receiver that connected to the rest of the 14-plane formation.

Perhaps after this battle, he would be severely reprimanded for a critical error in squadron command. If there turned out to be nothing up ahead, his superiors, peers, and subordinates would all regard him as a fool.

He would be held accountable. His abilities would be questioned. He might even be demoted. It could hurt his career.

But.

“All units, reverse course!”

Hasami ordered the entire Unkaku escort squadron of 14 planes.

“Forget the torpedo bombers! Follow Chijiwa!!”

He shouted, then banked his plane into a sharp turn.

The remaining ten planes of the Unkaku escort squadron, having received the order, abandoned the torpedo bombers and followed Hasami.

As they sped away from the hunt, the other carriers' escort units remained obsessed with the torpedo bombers. Only the 14 planes of the Unkaku escort unit flew at full speed toward the airspace above the first and second squadrons.

Hasami glared at the black dot that was Chijiwa’s plane in the distance, his eyes bloodshot.

──This is your fault, Chijiwa.

──If there’s nothing there, you’ll be cutting your belly open with me.

Grumbling internally, Hasami led the Unkaku escort unit as they sliced through the sky in an upward climb.

Driven purely by instinct, Chijiwa plunged into the layer of clouds.

The windshield misted white. The wingtips vanished from sight, and only the faint outline of the Shinden’s sharp nose cutting through the vapor remained visible.

He emerged from the clouds.

At 6,500 meters altitude, the expanse of blue sky greeted him, unmarred by even a single high-altitude cloud.

But something split through that pure blue.

“As I thought…!!”

To the south-southeast, at 5,500 meters altitude, and approximately 13,000 meters away, the enemy appeared.

"Here come the dive bombers!"

Sixty Levamme Los Angeles dive bombers descended upon the empty airspace at the worst possible time.

The goddess of battle seemed to be favouring the Imperial Army this time.

“Damn it.”

He spat the words out. As he suspected, the torpedo bombers had been a decoy. The real assault came with the dive bombers, striking with a time delay between the torpedo and dive bomber waves, pulling the Imperial escort fighters away.

At this moment, only three fighters—Chijiwa, Sugino, and Matsuda—were defending the airspace. These three Shinden fighters were the last line of defence, tasked with protecting the six carriers of the First and Second Fleets from the assault of sixty dive bombers. To make matters worse, the carrier decks were laden with bombs and oxygen torpedoes. One hit, and any of these precious carriers would be lost in a fiery explosion, taking with them over 300 elite airmen, not in the skies, but beneath the waves.

“This is it.”

Muttering to himself, Chijiwa glanced at his wingmen.

──This isn’t just about winning or losing this sea battle.

Sugino and Matsuda met his gaze with the same fierce determination.

──The future of Amatsukami depends on us.

No words were exchanged, but their understanding was clear.

──Everything rests on these three.

Whether the Los Angeles squadron succeeded in their dive-bombing run, or whether Chijiwa’s trio could stop them, the outcome of this brief engagement would determine the course of the empire’s 3,000-year history.

With a hand signal, Chijiwa ordered the squadron to disperse. The formation broke, each fighter moving into position.

──If the goddess of battle is fickle…

Ahead, the sixty dive bombers accelerated. They had spotted the Imperial fleet through the gap in the clouds, and the excitement of the bomber pilots radiated from their approaching shapes.

──Force her hand.

The three Shinden fighters surged forward, aiming for the sixty black dots. Their goal was to strike before the enemy could begin their dives, attacking repeatedly if necessary.

The shapes grew larger through the cockpit’s canopy.

The enemy formation was four columns deep, already prepared to transition into their dive bombing runs.

There were four entry points, but only three of them. Not enough.

To protect the carriers, it wasn’t about shooting them down.

──Disrupt their attack runs.

A skilled dive bomber would enter at a 60-degree dive, adjusting the targeting sights during descent and releasing their bombs at around 400 meters. Less experienced pilots, however, might enter at a shallower angle, miscalculate during the descent, and release their bombs too early out of fear of crashing into the sea at 600 to 800 meters. If they could disrupt the approach at the start, the accuracy of the bombers would be significantly reduced.

Chijiwa and his wingmen held a height advantage of about 1,000 meters. Their goal was to disrupt the precision of the four-column formation.

Diving from 6,500 meters, Chijiwa’s Shinden targeted the lead bombers.

Just as four planes were about to enter their dives, his machine gun fire rained down from above, scattering the formation. One plane spun out of control, spiralling into the ocean below. Sugino and Matsuda followed suit, firing their 13mm rounds from above. Two more enemy planes were hit and wobbled away, abandoning the battle.

The remaining bombers hesitated. A dive-bombing squadron’s success hinged on the leading pilot, with the rest of the formation following that lead. With the front disrupted, the rest of the squadron faltered.

The orderly four-column formation disintegrated, leaving each bomber to decide for themselves when to begin their dives. Skilled pilots might still succeed, but for the inexperienced, the chances of hitting their target plummeted.

Chijiwa now fired from below, aiming at the bombers’ underbellies, preventing them from starting their dive. Sugino and Matsuda similarly locked onto dangerous enemy planes, forcing them off course with machine gun fire aimed at their noses.

The rear gunners on the Los Angeles bombers retaliated. They angled their planes and rained 14mm machine gun fire on the Shinden fighters coming up from below. The sky was soon filled with crimson tracer rounds and choking gun smoke.

Chijiwa weaved through the fiery rain, his eyes straining through the smoke to spot bombers plunging toward the sea. He sped after them, spraying bullets across their flight paths to force them to change course, then searched for his next target.

The sea came into view below. Their dogfights had dropped their altitude to 3,700 meters. Columns of water erupted around the fleet, obscuring it with mist. Several enemy planes had managed to release their bombs. The fleet’s circular formation had scattered, each ship frantically evading the falling bombs. Fortunately, none had yet taken a direct hit. Thanks to Chijiwa’s squad, the bombing runs had been thrown into disarray, and the fleet crews were doing their best to avoid the attacks. The more the trio forced the bombers off course, the lower the chances of a direct hit.

──The carriers were like rabbits, the Los Angeles bombers like hawks, and the Shinden like hunters.

As the hawks swooped down on the helpless rabbits, the hunters fired shots to scare the hawks away, allowing the rabbits to flee. The hunters didn’t need to kill the hawks—this was the role of the three Shinden fighters in this battle. Chijiwa coolly assessed his role in the engagement.

──But there are too many hawks.

More than 50 dive bombers still remained, waiting to unleash a deadly and coordinated dive attack.

"Dammit!"

Chijiwa cursed, opening the throttle. He needed to disrupt their attacks, even if it meant firing at long range. Ignoring the machine gun fire from below, he weaved through the tracers, riddled his plane with holes, but kept on preventing the dives.

His plane’s energy consumption was critical. The strain on the pilots was immense. Sugino, hit by enemy fire, was trailing white smoke, yet still pursued the enemy. He fought with reckless abandon, desperate to protect the fleet.

Sugino, usually cheerful and carefree on the ground, fought like a demon in the sky. Matsuda, too, fiercely defended his sector. There was no way Chijiwa could give up now. Ignoring his remaining energy reserves, he kept firing to disrupt the enemy bombers.

The enemy soon realized there were only three Imperial fighters. Likely receiving orders from their squad leader, the Los Angeles bombers began regrouping.

Chijiwa glared through his cockpit at the formation above him.

The enemy bombers reassembled at 5,300 meters, dividing into three groups.

That formation…

“...A fan-shaped formation...!”

Ten bombers spread out in a fan formation, preparing for a coordinated dive.

Three groups of ten. With a squad leader at the centre of each group, all thirty planes were ready to dive simultaneously. There was no way for the three Shinden fighters to counter all of them at once. Even if they forced two-thirds to abort their dives, ten bombers would still release their payloads, and one direct hit would be enough to sink a carrier. Five or six hits would decide the outcome of the battle.

“Damn it…!!”

For the first time, despair flickered across Chijiwa’s mind. He had underestimated this enemy.

The closer the fighting came to their homeland, the more desperate the Levamme forces became, and the more formidable their counterattacks. These weren’t the weak, timid Levamme forces of earlier battles. These were foes willing to sacrifice everything to bring down the Imperial fleet.

Impressed as he was, Chijiwa had no time for admiration. He pulled the nose of his plane up and ascended toward the fan-shaped formation. Sugino and Matsuda also targeted their respective groups, preparing to attack.

The three fan-shaped formations surged forward—the rumble of propellers filling the sky—as they began their coordinated dive.

It was a precise, flawless manoeuvre. Like an avalanche, the thirty Los Angeles bombers descended in unison, aiming for the Imperial carriers below.

From his vantage point, Chijiwa saw the fan-shaped formation descending like a wave.

Through his windshield, he saw the ten enemy bombers spread out before him. Even if he fired head-on with his machine guns, he could only hope to take down one or two.

“Damn…!”

Chijiwa halted his climb and banked right, firing his 30mm machine gun rounds into the formation. He prayed that at least one of the bombers would break formation, but only two exploded, while the remaining eight continued their dive toward the carriers.

Grinding his teeth so hard they might shatter, Chijiwa aimed his nose at the retreating Los Angeles bombers.

The Shinden fighter was nimble, but chasing the bombers at such a steep angle could tear the plane apart. Chijiwa’s skill allowed him to push his plane to the brink of structural failure, but against real dive bombers, there was only so much he could do.

There was no stopping them. All he could do was hope and pray that as few bombs as possible found their mark.

──I’m sorry.

As he silently apologized to the crews below, something extraordinary happened.

A Shinden squadron sliced through the middle of the descending fan formation.

The enemy bombers, along with their 500kg bombs, disintegrated in an explosion, sending brown-grey clouds of debris into the sky.

“…!!”

A chain of explosions followed, shredding the dive formation. The remaining bombers, now in disarray, were immediately attacked by the pursuing Imperial fighters.

Looking around, Chijiwa saw that the other two fan formations were also being attacked by multiple Shinden fighters, disrupting their formations. Below, the six Imperial carriers were scattering to evade the remaining bombs. No direct hits had been scored.

The first Shinden squadron, which had shredded the initial fan formation, now pounced on the retreating bombers. The Los Angeles bombers, inferior in speed and manoeuvrability, fled in a straight line. However, the Imperial fighter chasing them struggled to hit its target, its bullets spraying in random directions, missing the mark entirely. Chijiwa couldn’t help but shake his head in disbelief at such terrible aim.

There was only one pilot in the Unkaku air squadron who was that bad.

“Hasami…”

Chijiwa let out a sigh of relief.

Hasami’s piloting skills were atrocious, but his leadership was decent. He was more reliable than the other squadron leaders, who had been tricked by the enemy’s torpedo bombers. While Hasami’s combat abilities were hopeless, he had the tactical foresight and calm demeanour to make the right decisions in the heat of battle.

──You have a skill I don’t.

──I feel at ease fighting under your command.

Chijiwa quickly shot down the retreating Los Angeles bomber in front of him, without even glancing at the falling wreckage, and maneuverer his plane to fly alongside Hasami’s.

From the cockpit, Hasami glared at him with his usual expressionless face, as if to say, “Stop stealing my kills.”

Chijiwa opened the canopy and yelled at his squadron leader.

“You’re late, you idiot!”

Hasami’s face twisted in frustration, even though he couldn’t hear a word. Chijiwa, smirking at his comrade’s misery, pulled away to hunt down his next target. Though he trusted Hasami, something about his overly serious face always made him want to mess with him. It was a bad habit, but one he had no intention of fixing. There was no way he’d start thanking Hasami sincerely, tears in his eyes.

With Hasami covering him, Chijiwa was now free to hunt to his heart’s content. The remaining Los Angeles bombers, having given up on their bombing runs, jettisoned their payloads into the empty sea and fled.

By the time the other escort fighters, distracted by the decoys, returned, all the Los Angeles bombers had withdrawn. Not a single bomb or torpedo had hit the carriers.

The second wave of attackers took off, successfully bombarding the Sion Island airfield and rendering it inoperable.

At the same time, Imperial scouts spotted the enemy fleet, and the third wave of attackers was launched. This time, the torpedo bombers carried their oxygen torpedoes into the twilight sky.

The Unkaku escort squadron landed to refuel and rearm, then climbed back to 6,700 meters, waiting for the enemy. When the enemy once again attempted a staggered attack with torpedo and dive bombers, the Imperial forces were ready. The air squadrons had split into two groups, ensuring that one always remained directly over the fleet, while the other engaged the enemy. As a result, the Levamme forces were unable to inflict significant damage on the Imperial fleet.

──Show yourself, Seagull.

Throughout the battle, while cutting down enemy planes, Chijiwa silently prayed for his rival to appear. But though they faced some formidable opponents, his comrades quickly dispatched them, and the legendary Seagull fighter never appeared.

The Outcome of the Battle of Victoria Sea:

Imperial Amatsukami Navy losses:

   2 light cruisers sunk, 2 destroyers sunk
   1 heavy cruiser severely damaged, 1 battleship lightly damaged, 3 destroyers lightly damaged

Holy Levamme Empire Navy losses:

   3 fleet carriers sunk, 1 heavy cruiser sunk
   1 fleet carrier severely damaged, 2 escort carriers severely damaged
   2 battleships lightly damaged, 4 light cruisers lightly damaged, 1 destroyer lightly damaged

The world's first carrier-versus-carrier battle ended in a decisive victory for the Imperial Amatsukami forces.

After the enemy fleet was destroyed, the super dreadnought air battleships Hida and Setsu unleashed devastating bombardments on Sion Island from 50-centimeter cannons, obliterating nearly all enemy ground installations except for the airfield. When the Imperial ground forces landed, they met little resistance and merely accepted the surrender of Levamme soldiers.

Two days after the battle, the Imperial flag was raised over Sion Island. Over 10,000 Levamme soldiers, lacking the will to fight, were taken prisoner. The Levamme forces retreated to the Cantabria Islands, 300 kilometres west of Sion.

In later years, military historians would attribute the Imperial victory in the Battle of Victoria Sea to Hasami Shinichi’s decision to reverse course and pursue the real threat. Though Chijiwa had identified the decoy, without Hasami’s command, the Imperial fleet would have been sunk by the Los Angeles dive bombers, and the second phase of the campaign would have ended in failure. The Battle of Victoria Sea would forever stand as an example of how one leader’s decision could change the course of a war.

The day after the occupation of Sion Island, Chijiwa and his comrades were reassigned once again from the Unkaku air squadron back to the Otonashi air squadron. Their new orders placed them at a newly established base on Sion Island. With the war nearing its first anniversary, constant relocations had become a routine, and Chijiwa harboured no particular feelings of excitement or dissatisfaction toward his next assignment.

That afternoon, the small boat carrying the Otonashi air squadron left the Unkaku and sailed into the harbor of Sion Island. Chijiwa would have preferred to fly his aircraft, but logistical reasons delayed the transfer of planes until a later date. As they approached, the remnants of the battle still lingered: a destroyer lay split in half with its stern jutting skyward, while a scorched freighter tilted into the water.

In the harbor, Imperial Navy warships were already docked. Some of the pilots were excited at the sight of the super dreadnought battleships Hida and Setsu, massive and imposing like mountain ranges. For many of the younger pilots, it was their first time seeing these behemoths, which had been kept in reserve until now. The battleships’ silhouettes reminded Chijiwa of Battleship Island, and despite the animosity he once felt toward that place, a sense of nostalgia stirred within him.

The small boat docked at the pier, and Chijiwa and the others disembarked. Setting foot on the frontlines of the island, they climbed into the back of trucks that would take them to the airfield.

As the truck bounced along the rough, red dirt roads, Chijiwa observed the island. Imperial military vehicles moved briskly through the streets, soldiers directing traffic with signal flags. Amphibious landing craft unloaded trucks and armoured vehicles, which headed toward the shore to set up camp for the ground forces. For an island that had only been occupied the day before, everything was remarkably organized—likely due to careful pre-war planning. The excitement of being on the frontlines, edging ever closer to Levamme’s mainland, was palpable.

The island still bore the scars of the recent battle, with plumes of smoke rising here and there. The terrain was mostly flat, but patches of deep forest and red-brown hills lay beyond the greenery. Despite it being early December, the weather wasn’t cold. The air was thick with the smell of sulphur, and upon closer inspection, Chijiwa noticed smoke rising from the mountains—Sion Island was said to have hot springs. Sugino excitedly remarked about this, likely thrilled at the prospect of a bath, something rare for lower-ranked soldiers on aircraft carriers. Matsuda, too, was in a tourist-like mood, taking in the island’s scenery for the first time. Meanwhile, Hasami remained silent and grumpy, still seemingly holding a grudge against Chijiwa for stealing his kill during the recent naval battle.

After about twenty minutes of driving through a dense grove of palm trees, the path opened up, and the airfield came into view.

It was the former La Vista Airfield.

Three runways stretched out in the distance: one for fighter aircraft, one for carrier bombers and torpedo bombers, and one for large bombers. The existing facilities, including barracks, hangars, shelters, air defence bunkers, and the command post, would all be repurposed by the Imperial forces.

The newly established base was named “Sechibaru,” after the war god from Amatsukami mythology. From this point on, Chijiwa and the Otonashi air squadron would make Sechibaru their headquarters, launching from this forward base to engage in the battles ahead.

The runways were still pockmarked with bomb craters, and wreckage from downed enemy planes was strewn across the field. Heavy equipment was clearing the debris, but it would take a few days before the runways were operational. This was why they hadn’t flown in directly.

In front of the air command post, elite pilots from various carrier air squadrons had gathered. Among them were some of the most skilled pilots in the empire, including several whom Chijiwa recognized. Rumour had it that in the coming days, even more experienced pilots would be selected from other air bases and assigned to the Otonashi air squadron. This elite unit would become one of the most formidable air forces in Amatsukami.

The new base commander of Sechibaru was Rear Admiral Shirase Kazuki, whose success in the Battle of Mitobaru had earned him the post. Respected by all, especially the junior officers who affectionately called him “Father,” Shirase gave a brief but stern speech, reminding them of the harsh battles to come.

After the speech, they moved to the barracks. The building was a sturdy two-story concrete structure, originally used by the Levamme forces. Although Chijiwa’s rank entitled him to stay in the officers' quarters, he preferred to stay with the non-commissioned officers in the barracks. The officers didn’t seem to mind his absence, as many of them weren’t particularly fond of him anyway.

The large ground-floor room was lined with simple beds and shelves. The shelves still held various items left behind by the Levamme soldiers, such as magazines and other small personal effects—prizes of war.

With no strict bed assignments, the non-commissioned officers each claimed an empty bed and sprawled out. Some flipped through the Levamme magazines with curiosity.

"Whoa, is this...!?"

Sugino, who had been rummaging through a bookshelf near Chijiwa, suddenly let out a shocked cry. Chijiwa glanced over to see Sugino holding a Levamme adult magazine. With his eyes bulging and nostrils flaring, Sugino was quickly surrounded by a crowd of men, their cheers rising at the sight of the provocative images that were strictly forbidden in Amatsukami.

"Wow, the Levamme really are something!"

Sugino, his voice cracking, spread the magazine open to show Matsuda.

"Stop, Sugino, that's indecent...!"

Ever the innocent one, Matsuda closed his eyes tightly and shook his head in disapproval. But Sugino, determined to share his "discovery" with his friend, persistently waved the various pages in front of him.

"Stop it, please, no..."

Although Matsuda could remain calm in the heat of aerial combat, he was helpless in this situation, his face flushed as he tightly shut his eyes and whimpered weak protests. Chijiwa ignored the magazine frenzy, wandering over to the shelves and sifting through the spoils of war until he found several records, which he quickly confiscated.

"Hmm."

He then ascended to the second floor, where he continued to search through piles of abandoned items. Finally, he uncovered a phonograph, a gleaming new model with a shiny horn attached—something that would be nearly impossible to obtain back in Amatsukami. Without changing his expression, he carefully cradled it in his arms and brought it down to his bed. He placed a random record on the turntable and set the needle.

“Oh?”

The music that emerged was clearer than anything he had ever heard. The notes of a piano, violin, and upright bass filled the barracks. The other pilots, who had been engrossed in their magazine, all turned toward the phonograph in unison.

“What’s that? Is it Levamme music? I’ve never heard anything like it.”

The room was full of unfamiliar faces, but the soothing melody soon brought everyone together. After spending so long in the chaos of war, the gentle music provided a much-needed balm for their weary souls. No one cared about the fact that it was "enemy" music; they simply sat or lay on their beds, listening intently until the record ended.

“Lieutenant, can you play Mizumori Mikura next?”

When the record finished, Sugino, still clutching the adult magazine, made the request. Since meeting her in person during her visit, Sugino had become a fan of Mizumori Mikura. Chijiwa, who also secretly wanted to hear her voice on the new phonograph, pretended to be reluctant as he pulled the record from his luggage.

The record was from before the war, back when Mizumori still sang Levamme songs. As her clear voice echoed through the room, it washed away the heavy tension of the frontline.

“Ahh…”

Her voice was like rain falling on the desert. The pilots’ collective sighs blended with the melody. It was only then, as they immersed themselves in the gentle music, that they remembered they were human beings.

If I could fly, I’d soar to the sea where you are.

I’d ask the seagulls for your whereabouts, flying over countless clouds.

And if I found your ship, I’d rest quietly in the shadow of its sails.

I’d only watch your back, for I know I’d get no reply.

All you see is the horizon and the endless sky.

So, I’ll send my prayers to you instead.

I love you.

I love you.

“What a beautiful voice…”

The pilots were all lost in the same quiet reverie.

The setting sun streamed through the windows, casting golden beams of light that floated with dust motes. The cold, grey barracks were momentarily bathed in a soft golden hue, and Mizumori’s voice swam through that glow, cleansing the space.

Though it was a song in Levamme, it stirred a deep sense of nostalgia. Some of the men even had tears welling in their eyes. Despite the differences in nationality, language, and physical appearance, the emotions behind the song were the same. The fragile, tender melody reminded them of the loved ones they had left behind. Sniffling could be heard between the verses.

The song reached deep into Chijiwa’s own heart as well.

Apologizing for the pain he had caused, he silently prayed that Yuki would find happiness back home. For Chijiwa, the thought of Yuki continuing to sing her kind, gentle songs was his happiness.

That night, long after lights-out, the non-commissioned officers of the Otonashi air squadron continued listening to the same record. Even after the lights were turned off, many still wanted to hear more. In the end, Chijiwa let the phonograph play, lying on his bed in his flight suit.

Staring up at the dark ceiling, Chijiwa’s mind was once again consumed by the image that had haunted him for over three months—the Seagull’s salute. Even when he closed his eyes, the image painted itself onto the back of his eyelids. No matter how much time passed, he couldn’t escape that memory.

Before he realized it, all he thought about was shooting down the Seagull.

──I can’t find interest in anything on the ground.

He was aware of it. The more he flew, the more he drifted away from life on the ground.

The sky was changing him. All he wanted was to think about the sky. The more hours he spent in the air, the more he could hear the voice—the voice that grew clearer with time.

──The voice of the sky.

He had heard it during the Battle of Victoria Sea. It was that whisper that had guided him to victory in the naval battle.

──If I could hear the “voice of the sky” more clearly.

──If that happened, surely…

──I could defeat the Seagull.

He believed it.

And perhaps the Seagull was hearing the voice too.

The movements his opponent had shown in their previous battle were beyond human—almost as if he could predict every move Chijiwa would make, evading his bullets with supernatural skill.

──The sky speaks to the Seagull just as it speaks to me.

Chijiwa was certain. Because…

──The sky loves the Seagull.

That was the reason.

The moment he realized that, unbearable jealousy ignited within him.

──It’s not you the sky has chosen.

──It’s me.

──I’ll shoot you down and prove it.

It was such a childish, ridiculous pride. But even knowing it was absurd, he couldn’t let it go.

──The next time we meet, let’s wager our lives.

──The loser dies, and the winner lives.

──That’s the kind of straightforward battle I want.

──I’m sure you feel the same, knight of Levamme.

The next time they encountered each other, Chijiwa was certain the Seagull would agree to a duel. And this time, he would face Chijiwa in a single-seat fighter, not a reconnaissance plane. This time, they would decide, once and for all, who the true ruler of the skies was.

──Let’s see which one of us is the true king of the sky.

Unable to sleep, Chijiwa eagerly awaited his showdown with the Seagull. His mind replayed the aerial manoeuvres of the Seagull, visualizing the movements as he mentally tracked its path with an invisible control stick. He continued devising strategies to close in, gain the upper hand, and get within the range of a guaranteed shot. Mizumori Mikura's song played softly in the background, flowing past him unnoticed.

At the same time, Hasami lay in his officer's quarters, deep in thought.

Earlier that day, as one of the few officers fluent in Levamme, he had participated in the interrogation of a captured Levamme pilot. From the interrogation, Hasami learned that at Guardia Airbase on Cantabria Island, some of the best Levamme pilots from across the country had gathered to form an elite unit called the Nexus Air Squadron. In addition, they were being supplied with a large number of newly developed aircraft, fuelling their determination to challenge the Otonashi Air Squadron. It seemed inevitable that intense air battles between the two squadrons would be a daily occurrence going forward. After suffering repeated defeats since the war began, the Levamme homeland had become increasingly desperate. To boost morale and mobilize their population, they had ramped up production of airships and aircraft on a massive scale. With Guardia Base just 300 kilometres from Sechibaru Base, air combat opportunities were expected to increase significantly.

What troubled Hasami the most, however, was the recent change in Levamme’s military leadership. General Maxwell, who had been in charge, was replaced after shouldering the blame for the string of defeats. His replacement was General Sesta Nimitz, a seasoned commander who had long been at odds with Maxwell. Unlike the politically adept Maxwell, Nimitz was a straightforward commander known for his competence in warfare.

Nimitz’s choice for the navy’s fleet commander was none other than Admiral Wilhelm Bardot, also known as "Bardot the Beast."

Nicknamed the "Bulldog," Bardot was notorious for his intense hatred of the Amatsukami people. His disdain was so visceral that he openly referred to the Amatsukami as monkeys, even going so far as to declare to his officers, "This isn’t war; your job is to hunt monkeys. Kill every monkey you see—leave none alive. Take joy in exterminating every last one." Bardot’s crude and violent rhetoric had made him unpopular with Maxwell, who had kept him relegated to support roles until now. However, Nimitz had no hesitation in entrusting Bardot with full control of the navy. Bardot's singular focus was to kill as many enemies as possible, and he took personal pleasure in doing so. Losses on his own side mattered little to him as long as it meant the death of more Amatsukami soldiers. While Bardot's outlook was reprehensible from a human perspective, it was, in a military sense, ruthlessly effective. His aggressive nationalism and fervour for combat were now driving the Levamme navy, and that troubled Hasami deeply.

──Bardot was reportedly at the bottom of his class in military school.

That fact unnerved Hasami. In the Amatsukami military, officers who graduated with top marks from the academy typically rose to leadership positions. Those with poor academic records were shuffled into lesser roles, never entrusted with critical responsibilities like commanding a fleet. Leadership in the Imperial military was more bureaucratic than military, with officials often treating their roles like civil service jobs. While this system worked for political administration, the military required a different set of skills. In the current Amatsukami system, bureaucratic competence was often valued more than actual military talent.

──Levamme was different.

Though class distinctions still existed, Levamme's military prioritized merit. Bardot had proven himself to be a capable commander in the field, which was why Nimitz had entrusted him with the naval command. Bardot would never have ordered a mid-battle weapon swap out of concern for wasting torpedoes. If it meant killing more of the Amatsukami, Bardot would gladly throw a hundred or even two hundred torpedoes into the sea without hesitation.

Additionally, Hasami had learned of a new development that was even more alarming. Several unfamiliar Levamme aircraft had been discovered on the airfield, partially damaged but recoverable. An investigation of their DC motors revealed that they far outperformed the domestic Sanae motor used in the Shinden. These new enemy aircraft were reported to rival the Shinden in speed, climb rate, and range, while also significantly surpassing it in defensive capabilities.

The difference in motor performance reflected the overall disparity in national power.

The development of motors required accumulated knowledge across multiple fields—mechanical engineering, thermodynamics, metallurgy, electrical engineering, electromagnetism, and advanced metalworking techniques. Even if the design was superior, the motor wouldn’t reach its full potential without the proper materials and manufacturing processes. The Shinden had reigned supreme because its Sanae motor outclassed Levamme’s DC motors, but that advantage was disappearing. With these new, more powerful motors, Levamme’s aircraft would soon be able to surpass the Shinden.

On top of that, Levamme had the industrial capacity to mass-produce these advanced planes. Even if their pilots were only average, sheer numbers would allow them to overwhelm the experienced but outnumbered Amatsukami pilots. A difference in technical skill could be compensated for with numerical superiority.

Guardia Airbase, being close to the Levamme homeland and surrounded by open sea, allowed for quick resupply. In contrast, Sechibaru Airbase, located beyond the Great Waterfall, required airships for resupply, which made transporting large quantities of supplies difficult. The long travel times also complicated matters. According to military science, logistical difficulties increased with the square of the distance, and with the added challenge of the Great Waterfall’s elevation difference, the burden on Sechibaru’s supply lines was exponentially worse.

The longer the conflict with Guardia Air Squadron dragged on, the more the odds would tilt in Levamme’s favour.

──Levamme’s counteroffensive is beginning.

──The war is only now entering its real phase.

Hasami was certain of that. Though his body was exhausted, sleep eluded him as he lay awake, pondering the grim future ahead.

I can feel the intense anticipation building within me. I can’t wait for tomorrow to come. Even in my mid-fifties, it feels like the peak of youth all over again.

“Celebrate the beginning of your command. Soar high,” Wilhelm Bardot, the commander of the Levamme Navy, joyfully proclaimed, unable to conceal his excitement.

The latest state-of-the-art carrier, Gran Ideal, boasting 120 aircraft, roared into action as its lift systems thundered into life.

The sea split apart beneath it, and the towering waves foamed as the massive 260-meter-long ship ascended into the air. The imposing fortress of San Cristobal gradually shrank beneath the horizon as the colossal airborne carrier reached 1,500 meters and settled into its cruise mode. With the vast ocean now under its command, the carrier’s launch celebrated the new regime established by Supreme Commander Nimitz.

Bardot stood alongside his naval advisors, grinning in delight as he enjoyed the first flight of this immense, magnificent vessel.

“What a splendid ship,” he remarked.

Eight new power units hummed smoothly in the belly of the ship, producing 1.75 times the output of the previous model. The completion of these new units allowed airborne vessels to grow even larger, bear heavier armaments, and carry far more aircraft. As a result, more of these monstrous carriers were now being produced. In fact, eight more carriers like the Gran Ideal were currently under construction. It wasn’t just the carriers—cruisers, destroyers, and smaller vessels were also being mass-produced at a scale unimaginable before the war.

A year of repeated defeats had spurred the citizens of Levamme to action. The sense that their nation could fall pushed them to adopt a production system involving both the government and the people. The Levamme Royal Court had finally resolved to spend half of next year’s budget on the military, determined to fully commit to the war. Initially, they had dismissed the conflict, thinking, “This isn’t really a war; it’s just fighting monkeys.” However, after suffering defeats at the hands of those very “monkeys,” including the loss of an arm, they finally acknowledged that these monkeys were formidable. Now, the Levamme Empire was prepared to pour half of its national resources into driving the Amatsukami from the Earth.

A bright smile bloomed across Bardot’s face.

He was thrilled to be leading the charge in what he saw as a "monkey hunt." He felt a deep sense of gratitude that he had the opportunity to exterminate every last one of them from the Earth. The mere thought of those cowardly, hideous creatures daring to call themselves humans made him sick. He needed to teach those shameless monkeys the true greatness of human beings.

“I’d love to start killing monkeys immediately, but we must prepare first,” Bardot said, trying to temper his excitement as he addressed his naval advisors.

“We will torment the monkeys with everything we have. Spread false information, and learn everything there is to know about them—their habits, preferences, gestures, and favourite treats. Once we know everything about them, we’ll devise a large-scale, targeted plan to ensure their extinction. Their suffering will be our joy. Right?”

“Yes, sir,” the advisors replied in unison.

“The monkeys are desperate for a quick, decisive battle, hoping for an early peace. We mustn’t play into their hands. We’ll drag them into a war of attrition, which is what they fear most. Over the next year, we’ll wear them down slowly but surely.”

Bardot gleefully shared his strategy with his advisors. Even Nimitz agreed with this approach, which seemed unexpected for a general known as the “Bulldog,” but Bardot was focused on achieving complete and total victory. He didn’t care how long it took—he would be satisfied as long as no Amatsukami remained on the Earth.

“There will be no grand naval battles. We’ll wage a war of attrition. We’ll strike Sion Island with minor air raids every day and night. That alone will weaken them. As their strength wanes, ours will grow. Only when we’ve amassed a force ten times stronger than theirs will we strike decisively.”

Bardot turned to look out the window, imagining the sky a year from now, filled with the imposing steel-grey of their airborne fleet. Once all their ships were completed, their fleet would dwarf the Imperial forces. The skill, training, and fighting spirit of the enemy wouldn’t matter—they would be crushed by the sheer weight of Levamme’s forces. In modern warfare, industrial power determined victory.

──The monkeys dream of romanticized war.

That was Bardot’s assessment of the Amatsukami military. Their strategy was to arm elite, rigorously trained soldiers with masterfully crafted swords and send them to the front. It was beautiful in a way and no doubt allowed for honourable combat on the battlefield, but frankly, Bardot thought it was absurd.

“There is no romance in war,” Bardot muttered.

Victory came down to one thing: the overwhelming power of steel and machinery.

The side that could send the most steel machines crashing into enemy lines would win. Human skill, training, and spirit couldn’t stand against the tide of steel. Cheap sentiment was worthless in modern warfare. Bardot vowed to teach the Amatsukami this brutal truth, right down to their bones.

However, there was one exception.

──The sky.

In the aerial battlefield, there still lingered a shred of romanticism.

In the air, a single ace pilot could turn the tide of battle, securing air superiority and potentially reversing the course of an entire war. It was like the dream of ancient knights, and in the sky, this kind of fight still existed—though just barely.

After analysing the data from the Victoria Sea battle, Bardot concluded that the "Beagle plane that saw through the decoy and returned above the carrier" had decided the outcome. A single pilot had discerned the enemy’s tactics and saved the six enemy carriers. Such feats were still possible in air combat.

“I need an ace,” Bardot murmured as he gazed up at the vast sky.

“Just as the enemy has their Beagle, we need an ace of our own.”

This was Bardot’s sole concern. Although it seemed like a minor request for a naval commander, Bardot was a man who left no stone unturned.

His advisors already knew of Bardot’s desire for an ace pilot. One of them, Colonel Ramon Task, opened a file he had prepared and handed it to Bardot.

“Hm.”

Bardot glanced through the document and snorted. He recognized the name of the pilot on the report.

“Seagull, huh?”

He muttered the name quietly, turning his dampened expression to Colonel Ramon.

“I’d love to use this man, but he knows too many royal secrets. We can’t risk exposing him.”

“The royal court hasn’t ordered his execution. It’s the military command that’s keeping him under wraps.”

“If we use him, the royal court might get involved. If he lets slip anything about that particular operation to his comrades, it won’t just be a minor issue.”

“I know Seagull’s character well. He isn’t the type to speak carelessly. If we command him to keep quiet, he will. He’s almost absurdly strict about honour.”

“Even so… there’s still a risk the royal court could demand his execution. I’m tired of being jerked around by those court aristocrats.”

“Right now, they might be on edge. But after a year, once it’s clear nothing will come of it, they’ll relax their vigilance.”

“……”

“We’ll keep Seagull out of the spotlight for the next year, give him a new identity, and station him in the rear. He’ll maintain his skills by serving as a training partner for regular pilots. If the court ever asks, we’ll say he’s already dead.”

“Hmm.”

“When the time is right, we’ll unleash Seagull onto the battlefield. He’s the one who shot down the Beagle while flying a reconnaissance plane. If we give him a fighter aircraft, his skills will outshine any opponent.”

“Agreed.”

“The military command doesn’t understand the importance of exceptional pilots. Seagull is the crown jewel of the Levamme Navy. We can’t let such a pilot languish in obscurity. In the wars to come, air superiority will decide the victor, and Seagull is the one who can rule the skies.”

Colonel Ramon spoke with deep conviction. After all, it was he who had devised and executed the Seagull operation. His faith in Seagull was unshakable, and Bardot nodded in agreement.

The accomplishment of Seagull’s single-handed 12,000-kilometer reconnaissance mission over enemy territory was unparalleled.

It wasn’t just a peaceful journey; Seagull had outmanoeuvred enemy forces to deliver the future empress to her destination, all while flying a lone reconnaissance plane.

Bardot took pride in being the only one who truly appreciated the magnitude of this achievement.

This wasn’t something just anyone could do. Only the most elite, rigorously trained warriors could accomplish such a feat. It was a historic achievement worthy of being immortalized in textbooks, yet Seagull had been cast aside by the royal court for the sake of their own reputation.

While the risk of the royal court getting involved remained, Seagull was worth deploying to the battlefield.

Only Seagull could counter a pilot like the Beagle.

“We will release Seagull,” Bardot declared, resolute. They would strip him of his name, erase his past, and give him a new identity. Once the dust settled, they would restore his wings.

“Wait a year.”

Bardot gazed at Seagull’s dossier with affection. To him, his most talented subordinates were more precious than his own children. His hatred for his enemies knew no bounds, but his love for his skilled allies was equally boundless.

"Charles le Chasseur"

Bardot lovingly spoke Seagull’s true name, one that was soon to be discarded.

“You will become the king of the skies.”

END VOLUME 1

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