Toaru Hikuushi e no Seiyaku:V6Part5

Part 19 (Part 5 of Volume 6)

All the tormenting frustrations that had been weighing on him were swept away in a cold, blue rush, and he felt his self in the sky and his self on the ground gradually diverging from one another.

In this sky, the moment you let yourself be distracted by unnecessary emotions, that's when you die.

If he spent even a moment thinking about those who were gone, his reasons for fighting, or friends who might be flying in the same sky, his wings would be torn apart in an instant, his aircraft pierced by 20mm machine gun fire, his limbs shattered into pieces, and he'd be thrown into the middle of the blue expanse.

Human emotions were nothing but distractions up here. No, they weren't just distractions—they were the very embodiment of death itself. One lapse of focus, and the scythe would come for his neck.

──Just fight.

──Just shoot them down.

──I am but a piece of steel.

Fragments of the enemy plane, which had just exploded, struck his windshield. In the flames that bloomed before him, he saw dismembered limbs and splashes of blood.

Kiyoaki pierced through the wreckage, the three-bladed propeller roaring.

At an altitude of 4,000 meters, he performed a stall turn. His hawk-like eyes scanned the battlefield below.

──As expected, it's carrier-based aircraft.

──How long is this going to continue?

It was always the same: sporadic aerial raids by carrier-based planes launched from the enemy fleet. Rather than sending a massive wave of aircraft to force a decisive battle, they were strangling them bit by bit, like a slow tightening noose. For the Akitsu Federation, with its limited industrial power, such attacks were taking their toll. Messus Island Odessa was slowly being exhausted day by day, and the Odessa Air Squadron was losing more pilots over time.

October, late in the Imperial Year 1349, Messus Island Odessa──.

"Sakagami Squadron, ignore the enemy's cover fighters. Take down the bombers," came the instruction from Maolong, the flight squad leader, over the radio.

"Roger," Kiyoaki responded, flanked by his wingmen as they set their sights on the enemy bombers approaching Messus Island.

"Take them down to your heart's content, Lieutenant Sakagami!"

"We’ll protect you no matter what!"

His loyal wingmen, Jadamba Dambazolik and Nyutabaru Rensuke, responded as they always did. It had been three weeks since they'd been assigned as Kiyoaki's wingmen, and their formation flying had significantly improved.

"Don't chase them too far. Don't be reckless."

Kiyoaki issued his now-familiar warning as they spotted the enemy bombers and began their dive.

On either side, Dambazolik and Rensuke followed. Their ability to keep up with the rapid descent was a testament to their rigorous ground training. Since they had been assigned to Kiyoaki's squadron at his direct request, they had become, quite literally, his shields.

Below, at an altitude of 2,000 meters, the shadows of twenty Imperial Navy twin-seat carrier bombers, "Red Goat," were growing larger. Kiyoaki had flown that very model on patrol missions several times. He'd even ridden in one with Mio when they were attacked by an Idra and crash-landed on a deserted island. But there was no time for sentiment now.

──Now, they're just enemy planes.

The enemy still hadn't noticed their rapid descent. The fuselage of the "Red Goat" aircraft was beginning to fill his gunsight. His finger pressed the trigger without hesitation.

He dove past the flaming wreckage of what had been a "Red Goat" mere seconds ago. The deep blue sea loomed closer with every blink. Dambazolik and Rensuke followed behind, as steady as shadows.

The radio crackled.

"Enemy aircraft, rear left!!"

Kiyoaki turned his head toward Dambazolik's warning. Three enemy "Beo-Eagle" fighter planes were diving in from above, chasing Kiyoaki's group. It was retaliation for taking out one of their bombers in a single strike.

──They're in a superior position.

In a dogfight between fighter planes, altitude gave a decisive advantage. With the enemy directly behind them, Kiyoaki and his squadron were in a seriously disadvantaged position.

But.

──If we run, we'll be caught.

──This is a fight.

He quickly issued orders over the radio.

"Vertical loop, aim for the squad leader! Do not break formation!!"

"Yes, sir!"

With the order given, and the enemy closing in to about 500 meters, Kiyoaki pulled back on the control stick.

The sea vanished from the front of his view. The horizon briefly appeared before being replaced by the deep blue of the sky above. Successfully completing the most dangerous part of the manoeuvre, Kiyoaki led his squadron into a loop.

The turning performance of the Murasame and the Beo-Eagle were roughly the same. Now, it would come down to the skill of the pilots.

──I have to make this loop as tight as possible…

Through his experience in previous dogfights, Kiyoaki had discovered that slightly twisting the plane while looping allowed for a smaller turning radius than a perfectly smooth loop. However, twisting too much would cause the plane to stall, so he had to find the perfect balance. It was one thing to understand this in theory; executing it in real combat required an extraordinary level of courage.

──Please, Damba, Rensuke, follow me…

Kiyoaki prayed for his wingmen as he carefully twisted his plane. His hands were slick with sweat, and he had to concentrate with all his might to pull off the delicate manoeuvre. Glancing back, he could see the enemy fighters tenaciously chasing him.

──I can't lose.

The sea, the horizon, and the sky alternated rapidly in front of him as he endured the crushing G-forces, gritting his teeth, drawing a slightly tilted loop in the sky.

At that moment, he suddenly remembered the mock dogfights he'd repeatedly practiced with Illia back at the Air Hunt Academy.

──This manoeuvre… it's close to the one Illia talked about…

Over a year ago, Illia had asked Kiyoaki to repeatedly practice a manoeuvre that his father had perfected—a loop in combat.

Illia had explained that there was a "vacuum zone" near the top of a twisted loop, where, with precise control of all three rudders, a pilot could instantly flip behind their opponent. There was only one man who had ever mastered that technique and earned the title of "King of the Skies."

──The Karsten Turn.

Illia's father, Karsten Kreischmidt, had pulled off the legendary manoeuvre. Now, Kiyoaki found himself in a situation similar to the one he had practiced with Illia so many times.

A thrill coursed through him, something deep within stirring.

The primal instincts of a fighter pilot surged up inside him.

──I might be able to do it, too.

──With my wingmen covering me, I can attempt it…

Even if he failed the Karsten Turn and spun out of control, his wingmen might be able to help him recover.

──Should I go for it…?

The temptation to reach a new level as a fighter pilot tugged at him. Just as he was about to press his right foot down on the rudder bar…

──If I fail, my wingmen will be killed.

That thought flashed through his mind.

"Dammit."

Kiyoaki eased off the rudder bar and maintained a standard loop, twisting the plane only slightly.

──I can't take unnecessary risks. My wingmen's lives are in my hands…!

He realized for the first time that the thought of protecting his wingmen had grown stronger within him.

──I have to win, but I have to win the right way…

It was tough, but there was no other choice. If they kept enduring the loop, they'd eventually find themselves behind the enemy. Right now, he wasn't just carrying his own life—he was responsible for the lives of his subordinates. He etched that reminder into his mind.

Craning his neck and straining his body backward, Kiyoaki kept his eyes on the three enemy planes behind him, enduring the crushing G-forces. It was excruciating, but if he gave up now, the enemy would circle around and kill them all. Right now, the enemy pilots were enduring the same pressure in their cockpits. Kiyoaki knew all too well how skilled the St Vault fighter pilots were, but there was no way he could let them win.

──Show them the pride of a samurai.

His eyes narrowed with determination as he braced himself, refusing to lose. His hands trembled from the strain of gripping the control stick, but even the slightest mistake in manoeuvring would allow the enemy to slip behind them. One moment of carelessness could lead to the deaths of all three pilots in his squadron.

He endured and endured, pushing himself beyond his limits.

Then, the enemy squad leader, who had been in view just behind him, suddenly faltered and drifted down toward Kiyoaki's plane like a puppet with its strings cut.

The enemy pilot had succumbed to the strain.

In that instant, Kiyoaki found himself behind the enemy squadron. Their formation had collapsed, and the wingmen had been flung out of their loops.

With no hesitation, he lined up the now helpless squad leader in his gunsight and pulled the trigger.

The 20mm rounds from Kiyoaki's Murasame turned the Beo-Eagle into a ball of fire. The explosives remaining in the wings burst into the sky like sparklers, and before he could even savour the aftermath of the kill, he dove after the disoriented enemy wingmen.

The constant strain of the vertical loop had drained the pilots' physical strength, leaving the enemy wingmen wobbling, completely unaware of Kiyoaki's approach.

──How are my wingmen doing?

A quick glance to the left and right revealed that Dambazolik and Rensuke were slightly behind Kiyoaki but still maintaining their three-plane formation. Their performance was nothing short of outstanding.

──They’re reliable.

Trusting the two to cover his rear, Kiyoaki swiftly took down the remaining two enemy wingmen. Having flown solo for so long, he deeply appreciated the security of having wingmen guarding his back.

──I'm surviving thanks to my wingmen...

He was fully aware of this. Through the radio, he checked in on his wingmen.

"Still good?"

Their responses came instantly.

"Yes, sir!" "We can keep going!"

Though their voices sounded a bit fatigued, Kiyoaki could sense their satisfaction. Nodding, he turned his attention to the battlefield and aimed the tip of his spear towards the enemy bombers approaching Messus Island.

After repelling the enemy carrier-based planes and landing on the ground, Kiyoaki made his way to the aviation command post to report the battle results. Dambazolik and Rensuke rushed over, faces lit with excitement.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Sakagami! Thanks to you, I shot down one plane today!"

Kiyoaki was taken aback by Dambazolik’s first aerial victory. He hadn't noticed at all.

"Huh, when did that happen? I didn’t see it at all."

"It happened while you were flying like this, and an enemy plane came from this direction..."

Dambazolik mimicked the situation with his hands, explaining how he had spotted and shot down an enemy plane that had been creeping up from above while Kiyoaki was focused on another target.

"I also saw Dambazolik’s kill! I’m a bit frustrated that I didn’t get one myself, but it was a perfect takedown!" Rensuke added, clearly disappointed that he hadn’t achieved a kill yet, but sincerely praising his comrade’s victory. Kiyoaki couldn't help but smile.

"I see. Thanks. I didn’t notice at all."

"It's our job as wingmen!"

Dambazolik straightened his posture, proudly puffing out his chest. He was far too earnest to tell a lie, and it was clear that he had indeed saved Kiyoaki’s life.

"Wait here a second."

Kiyoaki jogged over to the officers’ barracks and returned with a large bottle of sake he had stored under his desk.

"I got this from the strategist Ogiya, but I don’t drink much. You guys can have it."

Seeing the label, Dambazolik’s eyes widened in surprise. The sake was a high-end brand that every Akitsu citizen would recognize.

"Is it really okay for us to have this!?"

"It’s a small price to pay for my life. Share it with everyone."

"Thank you so much! Everyone will be thrilled!"

Dambazolik and Rensuke repeatedly thanked him as they carefully cradled the bottle and headed back to the non-commissioned officers' barracks. Kiyoaki waved as they left and let out a deep breath.

The sun had already set below the horizon, leaving only a faint purple afterglow in the western sky.

This was the sixth aerial battle since they had started flying as a three-plane squadron. With each mission, the bond between him and his wingmen grew stronger, and their coordination improved with every fight.

To survive the brutality of this sky, they had become indispensable to one another.

──And so, I've gained more people to care about...

Kiyoaki gazed up at the sky, feeling the weight of that realization.

As time passed, people who had once been important faded into the background, while those by his side now became more vivid.

No matter how much he clung to the past and tried to reject the present, the harsh reality would not allow it.

It was simply the way things were. As countless sentimental songs say, life is a cycle of meetings and farewells. But even knowing that, the truth still hurt.

Kiyoaki slapped his cheeks with both hands, then straightened his expression as he looked up at the darkening sky.

──It’s no use worrying. I have to live in the now, give everything I’ve got.

──After all, I could die tomorrow...

Steeling himself, he reminded himself that indulging in sentimentality was a luxury he couldn’t afford. The situation was worsening day by day, and whether or not he would survive was far from certain. The Imperial forces were growing stronger by the day, and the Federation, with its inferior industrial power, was being pushed back.

"Oh, there you are, Kiyoaki. I’ve been looking for you."

A voice called out from the side, and Kiyoaki turned to see Ogiya, the aviation strategist, smiling and holding a newspaper.

"There’s something interesting in the paper. I want to hear your thoughts."

Ogiya handed him a copy of The Akitsu Daily News. The date was from three days ago, as newspapers arrived in Odessa three days late due to its distance from the mainland.

"Let’s discuss it in the command post. I’d rather not be seen reading this out here."

Urged by Ogiya, Kiyoaki followed him to the second floor of the Odessa Airfield command post and into the officers' room.

Ogiya spread the paper across a large table, used for maps, and pointed to a specific article.

"To the Next King of the Skies: A Fateful Duel Approaches."

Beneath the grandiose headline was a large photograph of Kiyoaki in the cockpit of his Murasame, extending one hand to signal to a mechanic.

It wasn’t the first time Kiyoaki had been featured in the media. During his time with the St Vault military, he had been heavily promoted as one of "The Seven of Eriadore," used to boost military propaganda and inspire younger generations. But even so, this article was particularly inflammatory. Underneath Kiyoaki’s photo was another photo, this time of Illia Kreischmidt, taken during their mock air battles at the Air Hunt Academy.

The article read:

"In recent times, a young warrior has emerged in the skies over the multi-island sea. Many of you may recognize him from last year. In February, during a mock air battle on Air Hunt Island, the young hawk, Lieutenant Kiyoaki Sakagami (19), captured the attention of both the St Vault Empire and the Akitsu Federation. Since the outbreak of the Second Multi-Island War, he deserted the Voltec Air Squadron out of loyalty to his homeland and is currently engaged in deadly combat against his former comrades on Messus Island Odessa. Living up to the name of his father, the legendary Flight Sergeant Masaharu Sakagami, once called the 'King of the Skies,' Kiyoaki has been steadily racking up achievements in the air and is expected to soon lead a large squadron."

"But on the other hand, another who carries the blood of the 'King of the Skies' also flies the skies of the multi-island sea. Cadet Officer Illia Kreischmidt (19), a member of the Voltec Air Squadron, is currently fighting the Allied Forces in the skies around Isrion and is showing exceptional performance, soon expected to rival the kill count of Captain Leo Rosenmuller. Illia’s fame is already spreading throughout the Empire, and her beauty has made her a national hero. These two young heroes, Kiyoaki Sakagami and Illia Kreischmidt, emerged around the same time, and during their time at the Air Hunt Academy, they were often seen together, reportedly even going on outings alone."

"The two, sharing similar backgrounds and talents, may have developed feelings beyond mere friendship. If the war continues, they may one day face each other in battle. When that day comes, will they be able to pull the trigger?"

After reading the article, Kiyoaki ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

It was obvious that the article was designed to appeal to the public's basest curiosity. The war-weary citizens of Akitsu were hungry for simple, sensational entertainment.

There was no author listed, but Kiyoaki knew exactly who was responsible.

"Tokiwa Utaguni..."

Ever since their days at the Air Hunt Academy, this journalist had relentlessly pestered Kiyoaki and Illia, asking invasive questions and prying into their relationship.

"After graduation, if the two of you meet on the battlefield, will you kill each other honourably?"

Kiyoaki recalled the provocative question Tokiwa Utaguni had asked during an interview. Even back then, Tokiwa had been fixated on the connection between Kiyoaki and Illia, scheming to turn it into a sensational story. Otherwise, there was no way Tokiwa could have known about the times they had gone out alone.

A surge of anger welled up inside him.

He didn’t want his relationship with Illia trampled on by some stranger, nor did he want baseless speculation about them spread across the country.

"So, is it true? Were you close with this young lady?"

Ogiya asked directly, without any pretence. Kiyoaki grimaced.

"…She's a dear friend. We practiced mock dogfights together many times during our time at the academy, honing our skills."

"But… just a friend, right?"

"She’s a friend. I respect her as a top-notch pilot."

"I see… And if you were to meet her on the battlefield…"

Ogiya paused, staring intently at Kiyoaki.

Kiyoaki knew what the next question would be.

"…Could you shoot her down?"

Kiyoaki couldn’t answer. His expression stiffened. Ogiya understood immediately.

"…Of course not. You couldn’t."

"……………………"

"But the Naval Command wants you to. They want Kiyoaki Sakagami to shoot down Illia Kreischmidt with his own hands and spark a nationwide celebration."

Ogiya’s voice was resigned as he explained the grim reality. Kiyoaki remained silent.

"I don’t want to talk about this either, but I can’t avoid it. Actually, I’m being reassigned back to Misato. I’ll be taking command of a newly formed squadron tasked with defending the capital’s airspace. We’re assembling the best fighter pilots in the Federation. I’ve put in a request for you to join, though you don’t have much experience yet. But you’ve got the skill."

Kiyoaki looked up in surprise.

"Soon, the Empire will capture Isrion. Once Hydrabard surrenders to the Empire, Odessa will be next. And after Odessa falls, it’ll be Misato’s turn. Before that happens, we need to strengthen the capital’s defences as much as possible."

"Misato’s defence is the job of the Keiken Imperial Guard Division, isn’t it?"

"The Imperial Guard alone can’t stop the Empire. That’s why we’re forming a combined force with the elite from the land and naval air forces. We’re basically copying the Empire’s Voltec Air Squadron. And when Misato is attacked, you can bet it’ll be Voltec leading the charge. We can’t let them take us down easily. Even if we can’t win, we need to make sure we take some of them with us."

Kiyoaki’s heart pounded.

The faces of his former comrades in the Voltec Air Squadron flashed before his eyes.

It had only been two months since they parted ways, but it already felt like a distant memory.

And now that he was apart from them, Kiyoaki was all too aware of how formidable they were. As Ogiya said, the Voltec Air Squadron was designed to secure air superiority, and that meant conquering the skies over Misato. They had the equipment and the skills to do just that.

He pictured Leo’s face—always respected and admired. Then there was carefree Lulu and Lala, heavy-drinking, rough-around-the-edges Mcguire, and hot-headed Leon, always starting fights. They had all welcomed Kiyoaki, an outsider, without reservation. Every night, they drank together on the beach until dawn. When Kiyoaki and Kagura were imprisoned by the military police, they had broken the law to rescue them.

These weren’t faceless enemies. Kiyoaki knew every single one of them personally, knew their personalities, even their family situations.

If he joined the new air squadron in Misato, he would be fighting against his former comrades.

──I can’t do it.

But more than anything…

──I can’t fight Illia.

The idea of a final battle over the capital filled him with dread. What had once seemed like a vague, distant possibility now took on a frighteningly real form, making his legs tremble.

"If we meet on the battlefield, let’s fight for real."

When they had parted at the Odin air fortress, Illia had asked Kiyoaki to make that promise. At the time, with the military police closing in and the clock ticking, Kiyoaki hadn’t wanted to leave things unresolved and had agreed to her request.

But now, the thought of facing Illia over Misato was terrifying.

Ogiya watched Kiyoaki’s reaction and scratched his head awkwardly.

"Well, I suppose I’m partly to blame for all this… Back then, I was young and stupid and didn’t know when to quit."

"Well, you know," Ogiya said with a touch of regret, "that girl's connection with you... if you trace it back, I'm partly responsible too. I was young and reckless back then, and yeah... I definitely messed up by not reading the room."

Ogiya was referring to an incident that occurred about twenty years ago during the First Multi-Island War. At that time, Masaharu Sakagami and Karsten Kreischmidt, both known as the "Kings of the Sky," were engaged in a legendary one-on-one duel. Both sides’ pilots, recognizing the significance of the moment, had mutually agreed to a ceasefire and watched the clash in awe as the two masters demonstrated their incredible skill. Just as Karsten maneuverer behind Masaharu, closing in for the kill, Masaharu abruptly pitched his plane vertically. In that moment—driven by his admiration for Masaharu—the young Ogiya intervened in the duel.

From there, the accounts diverged.

According to records from the Akitsu Federation, Ogiya had interrupted just before the decisive moment. Masaharu, by suddenly pitching his nose up, caused Karsten to overshoot, then levelled off and shot him down. This manoeuvre, known as the "Snake Shot," was a legendary air combat technique that no one but Masaharu had ever successfully performed.

However, in the records of the St Vault Empire, it was stated that Karsten had been shot down due to Ogiya's interference. As a result, Karsten lost his right arm, could no longer fly, and Masaharu's name became synonymous with "coward" in the Empire, tarnishing what should have been an honourable duel.

"I know I don't have much credibility, but the "Snake Shot" was real. I saw it up close. But of course, saying that to them won’t convince anyone. The records of air battles are notoriously unreliable, always twisted to fit the narrative that’s most convenient. Thanks to that dumb move I made, I gave the Empire the perfect excuse."

Stripped of his wings, Karsten sank into despair, developing a dependency on alcohol. In his bitterness, he rigorously trained his only daughter, Illia, with the intent of moulding her into the next "King of the Sky." When Illia asked Kiyoaki to fight her with all his strength, she was surely honouring her father’s wishes.

The depth of the connection between him and Illia hit Kiyoaki once more, leaving him at a loss for words.

When they first met, Illia had hidden behind a cold, stoic mask. But as they got to know each other, she began to show him her true self, the face of a normal girl.

He recalled the countless times they had faced off in mock battles, her graceful flying mesmerizing him; the time they trained in swordsmanship alone in the gymnasium; the long nights spent in the officers' room, dissecting their daytime practice dogfights; the motorcycle rides they took together, just the two of them. Memories of their time at the academy rushed back, followed by memories of their time in the Voltec Air Squadron.

On a beach with the non-commissioned officers, after drinking heavily, Illia had asked Kiyoaki for a piggyback ride. Carrying her on his back, he remembered how delicate and soft she felt, and how she smelled so sweet. As she tugged at his cheeks, they had laughed together, walking under the stars. In that moment, he had wished they could escape to a deserted island, forgetting about the war and living together in peace.

He didn’t know what to call those feelings. But when he looked within himself, it was clear that Illia had already spread roots deep into his soul, entwining herself with his very being.

There was no way he could kill someone like that with his own hands.

"I understand your hesitation," Ogiya said. "But unfortunately, we’re soldiers. Our job is to protect our countrymen, even if that means killing our friends, or even our lovers. If we don’t do it, the enemy will kill our friends, our comrades, and our families."

Ogiya’s words rang distantly in Kiyoaki’s ears.

What was right and what was wrong... it was no longer clear. In fact, it wasn’t even a matter of right or wrong anymore.

The world had gone mad.

The entire nation—no, the entire world—was caught up in the frenzy of war, abandoning any semblance of ethical integrity.

"The Naval Command and the people of Akitsu are expecting you to rise to the occasion. Fight for them, so they don’t have to suffer the same pain you’ve experienced."

Images of his father, mother, and sister, who had been killed in a senseless act of violence on Messus Island, flashed through his mind. In this twisted era, the only sliver of morality left seemed to be within the context of Ogiya’s words.

"The day after tomorrow, the order to transfer will come. We’ll be escorting a convoy back to the mainland. Your wingmen are coming too, so make sure you’re ready."

"...Understood. I’ll do my best."

With a weak response, Kiyoaki watched as Ogiya patted him on the shoulder, offering silent comfort, before leaving the barracks.

Alone, Kiyoaki lay down on his bed, his chest aching. A flood of dark premonitions overwhelmed him, leaving him gasping for air.

──Where am I headed?

He felt powerless, swept along by the tide of fate.

Since that day he had sworn vengeance against Urano, standing before the ashes of his hometown, he had pushed himself relentlessly, only to find that the destination of his journey was a sky where he’d be forced to fight someone he cherished.

──Is the nation really that important?

──Do I really have to fight for the sake of my country, even if it means killing Illia?

──If I kill Illia, rise in rank, and become an officer, will I be satisfied?

The anguish wouldn’t stop.

As he stared at the ceiling, the image of Illia’s innocent smile from that starry beach lingered in his mind, and the warmth of her embrace during their farewell at Odin Fortress resurfaced, clear as day.

"Illia..."

He whispered her name.

"I just want to see you again... in normal circumstances."

He wanted to meet Illia again, not in the sky as enemies, but somewhere like that peaceful beach where they’d once laughed together with their Voltec Squadron comrades. He imagined flying through a tranquil sky alongside her, without the threat of war. But that simple, fleeting wish seemed like nothing more than a child’s dream in the face of their grim reality.

Two days later, Messus Island's military port was overflowing with refugees. Despite having endured countless battles, the people who had been born on the island now had no choice but to abandon it, after receiving reports that the Imperial air and naval forces, having captured Isrion, were heading towards Messus Island. With tears in their eyes, they reluctantly boarded ships bound for the mainland.

Four transport ships, packed with approximately 14,000 civilians, were escorted by two destroyers. Their foghorns blared as they set sail. Kiyoaki, seated in his single-seat fighter "Murasame," led Dambazolik and Rensuke as his wingmen, providing aerial cover for the convoy all the way to Tsurugi Island.

The escort group, led by Captain Maolong, consisted of twelve aircraft. Once the escort mission was completed, they would refuel and head to Misato, where they would be assigned to the new air squadron Ogiya had organized.

Kiyoaki glanced down below. Even the decks of the transport ships were crowded with refugees, basking in the November sunlight. The ships were clearly overloaded, but the situation below deck was likely even more dire. People, packed tightly in the dark, cramped cargo holds, were enduring the rising temperatures without the ability to move freely, or even go to the bathroom.

He looked down at the white wake trailing far below, circling around repeatedly to stay in formation with the slow-moving ships. Kiyoaki scanned the sky for signs of enemy aircraft. It was a clear day, with few clouds, so any incoming enemy planes would be easily spotted. The greater threat was submarines, but he reassured himself that submarines couldn't cross the great waterfall without external assistance. Since the Empire had only taken Santos Island two months prior, it was unlikely submarines had already entered these waters.

──Maybe we’ll have a relatively peaceful day.

After days of intense dogfights with enemy carrier-based planes, today’s mission felt dull by comparison. It was tedious keeping pace with the slow convoy, adjusting to the sluggish speed of the ships. Bored chatter from his comrades filled the speaker, and Kiyoaki found himself relaxing into a sense of calm.

Four hours after setting sail, Kiyoaki had grown tired of the monotonous scenery of islands and sky, frustrated by the endless circling over the convoy. He prayed they would soon reach Tsurugi Island, their stop for the night. Being far from the front lines, enemy carrier-based planes were unlikely to appear, and the seas were full of Akitsu Federation fishing boats. The area was safe. Even Captain Maolong had joined in the banter over the speakers, and the squad was now laughing and singing songs that mocked the Empire.

But disaster struck in an instant.

The singing over the radio abruptly cut off.

Below, despite Kiyoaki’s squad maintaining complete air control, a towering column of water suddenly erupted from the side of the lead transport ship, followed by flames shooting skyward.

Within moments, a thick plume of black smoke began to rise into the clear blue sky, turning the peaceful scene into a warzone.

The lightly armoured transport ship quickly began to list to one side. Civilians, panicking as the flames spread, scrambled to escape, many tumbling helplessly into the sea.

"Torpedo?!"

Kiyoaki frantically scanned the ocean, trying to locate the source of the attack. It had to be a submarine, but there was no sign of it. The waves were too high to spot the sub’s silhouette. Given the distance to shore, the submarine had likely fired the torpedoes and then dove deep to escape detection.

"Damn it…!"

He cursed his own foolishness. He had been complacent, assuming submarines couldn’t cross the great waterfall without assistance. It was possible the Empire had developed some sort of lifting device to help submarines navigate the falls. Otherwise, this attack wouldn’t have been possible.

On the surface, one destroyer frantically searched for the fleeing submarine, while the other focused on rescuing survivors. The stricken transport ship was now ablaze, its fuel tanks likely ruptured, spilling thick black oil into the sea. Civilians who had been thrown into the water struggled desperately, but the heavy oil clung to them, making swimming impossible. One by one, they began to slip beneath the surface.

Kiyoaki’s eyes narrowed as he descended, straining every muscle to search for the submarine. But it was already too late.

──I’m a fool.

The transport ship, still carrying nearly 2,000 civilians, was sinking fast. On the surface, more than 2,000 people were struggling, reaching out to the sky for help, but without life jackets, and without the training to swim in the open sea, most were quickly succumbing to the cold November waters, their malnourished bodies unable to endure the struggle.

The sea turned black with oil, preventing the desperate victims from even opening their eyes. The winter sea had chilled the oil into a gelatinous state, clinging to their limbs and sapping their strength. Those who attempted to dive underwater to escape found themselves choking as they resurfaced, their mouths and noses clogged with the thick oil, until they, too, succumbed.

──If only I had been more vigilant.

There had been no time for singing. If he had paid closer attention to the water, he might have spotted the submarine’s periscope. This was a time of war—no peaceful scene could be trusted. Now, as he watched 4,000 people die before his eyes, he knew their families would be consumed by the same grief he had felt when he lost his parents and sister.

──I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…

No matter how many times he apologized, it wouldn’t bring them back. But the pain was unbearable. Just as Ogiya had said, his duty as a soldier was to protect his people, and he had failed. The result was this tragedy at sea. If he had taken his responsibilities more seriously, he could have prevented this disaster.

"…Stay alert. There may be another submarine. We can’t let them take a second ship."

Captain Maolong’s voice came through, bitter and tense. Kiyoaki snapped back to his duty and climbed to a higher altitude. He entrusted the rescue operation to the destroyers and resumed his search for any sign of a periscope at 100 meters above the surface. If another submarine surfaced, he would attack immediately.

──Never again. Never…

As he looked down at the sea, watching the thousands of lives being swallowed by the ocean, Kiyoaki silently vowed, over and over, to never let such a tragedy happen again. Though he thought he had experienced enough battlefields, this was the first time he had witnessed such a horrific event.

These weren’t combatants. They had nothing to do with the war. And yet, despite being paid to protect them, and flying an aircraft funded by their taxes, he had failed to notice the submarine, allowing the attack to happen under his watch, resulting in the deaths of these innocent people.

The frustration made him want to cry.

But there was no time for tears. He had to keep scanning the waves for any sign of another periscope. He was a soldier of the Akitsu Federation now. It was his duty to fight and save the lives of his fellow countrymen.

The convoy of transport ships arrived at Tsurugi Island in the evening. Kiyoaki and his cover team landed at the island's airfield ahead of time and made their way to the harbor. Shortly afterward, the destroyers carrying the rescued refugees and the remaining three intact transport ships entered the harbor.

The scene of the survivors was heartbreaking. Some who had been rescued from the ship died from burns, and their charred bodies were lined up on the pier. Many were still wearing clothes soaked in heavy oil, as removing them would peel away their burnt skin. The despair in their eyes seemed to pierce through Kiyoaki, making his legs tremble.

But he couldn’t look away.

By imagining his father, mother, sister, and friends among the disaster victims, he could easily understand how much their loved ones would mourn. Determined to never repeat this mistake, Kiyoaki forced the image of the victims into his memory.

After the survivors were taken care of, Kiyoaki greeted the commander of the local airbase before heading to the barracks. Everyone's faces were grim and exhausted.

Even Dambazolik and Rensuke, usually full of energy, looked downcast, their faces showing traces of tears.

"It's in the past now. Spotting a periscope from the air is difficult. Anti-submarine patrols are the job of the destroyers. Our job as fighter pilots is to spot enemy planes," Captain Maolong said, trying to offer some comfort, but Kiyoaki's mood remained heavy.

"... Let's drink. Reflect on it, then forget. It wasn't our fault; it's the destroyers’ fault," Maolong suggested.

Blaming others was easier than shouldering guilt, and Kiyoaki followed Maolong's lead, joining the gathering outside the barracks. He downed the sake that was poured for him, trying to numb the pain inside.

"Lieutenant, please," Dambazolik said, looking dejected as he poured Kiyoaki another cup. Kiyoaki said nothing, simply downing the drink again. He wasn't fond of alcohol, but tonight, he wanted to drown in it.

"Yeah, you too. Drink," Kiyoaki said, offering sake to his wingmen.

"Yes, sir."

It occurred to Kiyoaki that this was the first time he'd shared a drink with them. They'd talked about combat before but never tried to get closer.

"... The Imperial Army is strong. Very strong... Each time we fight them, I understand more about their strength," Rensuke began to speak quietly, as the sake took effect. A fire crackled at the centre of the gathering, sending sparks into the starry sky.

"And today as well... They completely outsmarted us. I’m sure even the military leadership didn’t anticipate they already had submarines stationed in the southern seas. The Imperial Army is just as capable as we are, if not more."

Kiyoaki was a little surprised. It wasn’t common to hear a soldier of the Federation openly praise the enemy. Most mocked the opposing forces. But Rensuke was different. Though he appeared delicate and gentle on the surface, Kiyoaki could see that beneath his exterior, there was a sharp intelligence, sadness, and a fierce intensity that emerged during combat.

In a way, Kiyoaki saw a reflection of himself in Rensuke and grew curious about the path that had brought him here.

"We're strong too. Our pilots’ abilities are not inferior," Kiyoaki tried to encourage him, but Rensuke's expression remained sombre. Dambazolik interjected.

"Rensuke’s worried about his family back in Misato. He thinks they should be evacuated before it becomes a battlefield..."

"That’s a valid concern. If possible, it would be safer to escape..."

"They can't afford to. My father was drafted and died. My mother works in a school factory, but I have three younger brothers and four younger sisters. There’s no extended family to help... They’re starving," Rensuke explained, his voice soft.

As they drank, the two wingmen painted a bleak picture of life in the Federation. Kiyoaki had heard whispers about the dire situation but hadn’t realized the full extent.

Since the Messus Island invasion, which led to war between the Akitsu Federation and the Hydrabard United Coalition five years ago, the Federation’s economy had deteriorated steadily. Rationing wasn’t enough, and most children suffered from malnutrition. The men had all been drafted, leaving mothers to work in factories or on farms for a pittance. Money had lost its value, and goods were obtained only through bartering. The food distributed was an unidentifiable gruel or strange dumplings made from who-knows-what. Desperation forced families to eat these scraps, but no matter how hungry they were, some things were too vile to swallow. Children subsisted on small amounts of thin soup, half a potato, or a few spoonful’s of wheat diluted with water. Death by starvation was a looming reality.

And so, women made the dangerous journey to the countryside to barter for food, a journey known as "kaidashi," an illegal practice fraught with peril. The trains, already packed with evacuees, were so crowded that there was no room to move, and the stench from lack of toilets was overwhelming. In tunnels, smoke from the coal engines would fill the carriages, and people pressed their faces into each other’s clothes, praying the train would soon emerge into fresh air.

Even if they reached the countryside, the farmers demanded valuables in exchange for food, and the police often confiscated these rations on the way home. For families like Rensuke's, it was a constant struggle for survival.

"My mother went to get food and came back empty-handed. By the time she returned, my youngest sister had died. She was only three. If the rations had been enough, she might have survived..."

Rensuke's voice was filled with quiet pain as he sipped his drink.

Kiyoaki was speechless.

The Empire wasn't free from hardship either, but the plight of the Federation civilians seemed far worse. Laws designed to protect lives instead threatened them, leading to this horrific reality.

"I can fight to earn money to send to them, but military currency is worthless. No farmer will accept it... What am I even fighting for?"

The military scrip, a promissory note issued in place of real wages, was essentially useless. It could only be exchanged for cash after the war ended, if at all. The frustration in Rensuke’s words was palpable.

"This is insane. The state is supposed to protect the people’s lives and property, but here it’s threatening them. Whose war is this anyway?" Kiyoaki muttered, the bitterness spilling out.

Dambazolik and Rensuke exchanged glances but said nothing as they sipped their drinks. What Kiyoaki had just said could easily be considered treason.

Once again, Kiyoaki felt that gnawing question rise from within: What are we fighting for?

Who was he flying for? It was becoming harder to remember why he was risking his life, taking others’ lives, and what purpose it served.

The world was mad.

"Forget I said that. I’ll keep flying. Beating the Empire is the only thing I can do," Rensuke declared, ending the conversation with a swig of his drink.

Kiyoaki downed his cup and gazed up at the stars.

Were his friends suffering under the same hardships? He wished he could share his feelings with them, but most of them, including Kagura, were on the other side of the war.

"Once we win, we’ll get reparations and life will be better. That’s why I fight. My parents will be proud if we win," Dambazolik said, trying to brighten the mood.

"Yeah... We fight to win. We have to," Kiyoaki agreed, though deep inside, he wasn’t sure if winning would bring happiness.

Fatigue, both mental and physical, weighed him down. Tomorrow they would fly to Misato. Exhausted, Kiyoaki excused himself and returned to the barracks alone.

As the clouds cleared, the full expanse of the Akitsu Federation capital, Misato, came into view beneath Kiyoaki’s aircraft.

The vast greenery of the imperial palace spread like a centre point, with the city expanding outward in a radial pattern, resembling a coin with a hole in the middle. The densely packed greyish-white concrete buildings were dissected by main roads like leaf veins, and the breath of 1.4 million citizens living in this metropolis hazed the winter sky.

Kiyoaki’s new mission was to protect the skies of this largest city in the Southern Archipelago.

Ahead, Commander Maolong’s aircraft began to descend. Slightly outside the city, a massive floating island stretched 28 kilometres in length and 15 kilometres in width. This was the former Urano stronghold "Balsinos," now rechristened "Suzaku" by the Akitsu Federation. It was an aerial fortress, part of the "Thundersteel" operation, and would serve as the base for the newly formed air squadron to which Kiyoaki and his team were assigned.

They began their descent from 3,000 meters, spiralling down toward the island, which hovered at 2,000 meters. Kiyoaki focused on the silver gleam of the landing strips, spotting the first airfield, where the fighter squadron would be based.

Maintaining perfect formation, the twelve planes gradually lowered their altitude. Kiyoaki knew that the existing pilots stationed at the first airfield would be watching their arrival, judging their skill. Were they worthy of being part of Akitsu’s strongest fighter squadron?

With the sound of wind rushing against the cockpit, they broke through the misty vapor and executed the fourth turn.

"We’ll land in a three-plane formation. Don’t mess it up," Maolong’s voice came over the speaker. Kiyoaki glanced to both sides. Dambazolik and Rensuke were flying in perfect unison with him, as if they had been a veteran unit together for years.

The planes touched down, kicking up red dust from the runway, their movements as synchronized as if pre-programmed. Glancing toward the line of assembled personnel, Kiyoaki saw about twenty or so pilots dressed in black flight suits with red stripes on their shoulders and chest, watching their landing with evident interest.

Kiyoaki and his wingmen lined up in front of the air command post, bracing against the cold wind. Once all twelve pilots had assembled, Commander Maolong reported their safe arrival to the new commanding officer.

The commander saluted and introduced himself.

"I am Ogiya, Haruhiko. I will be taking command of your unit from now on. Some of you know me from Messus Island, but the scale of the battle we’re preparing for will be nothing like what we faced there. Keep your focus sharp."

A sharp, unified response echoed through the air. Ogiya nodded and continued.

"The Empire has already invaded Isrion and is using the Voltec Air Squadron to capture the Karanakuta Fortress. If Karanakuta falls, their next target will be Misato. Our mission is to fend off the Voltec Air Squadron and defend the skies over Misato."

Kiyoaki’s chest tightened at the mention of the Voltec Air Squadron. Just hearing the name made his soul want to scream.

"As you may know, this squadron has been formed by combining the best pilots from three different military branches: the Akitsu Federation’s Keiken Imperial Guard Division, the Navy Air Corps, and the Army Air Corps. This is the first time such a joint squadron has been assembled. Put aside your differences and unite to face the Empire."

Ogiya looked around at each of them before raising his voice again.

"The nation is counting on us. After a public contest, this squadron has been named ‘Kusanagi Air Squadron,’ after the legendary sword from Akitsu mythology that cut down hordes of enemies in a field. I expect you to live up to that name. That is all."

Another loud response rang out, and the pilots dispersed. Carrying their single-strap knapsacks, they walked toward their new comrades, ready to introduce themselves.

The pilots’ cleanly coordinated flight suits exuded an unspoken sense of strength.

"Odessa Squadron here. Looking forward to working with you," said Maolong, introducing himself to a fellow lieutenant.

"The pleasure is ours. Welcome," the other lieutenant replied. To Kiyoaki’s surprise, the lieutenant was a woman, which was still uncommon in the Federation Air Corps.

And then—Kiyoaki’s eyes widened.

"Kagura!?"

Kagura Murasaki, now clad in the Kusanagi Squadron uniform, smiled at Kiyoaki, her usual serene expression lighting up.

"I told you we’d meet again soon."

For the first time in a long while, Kiyoaki’s face beamed with joy. He nearly rushed forward to take her hand but stopped himself just in time. The surrounding pilots watched their exchange with curiosity.

"Are you part of this squadron too, Kagura?"

"Yes, they accepted me. The training here is tough, but it’s making us all stronger," Kagura said, her soft smile radiating even more brightly. Despite only two months of separation, Kiyoaki found her presence overwhelmingly nostalgic.

"I’m honoured to fight alongside you again, Kagura!"

When Kiyoaki expressed his heartfelt sentiment, Kagura gave a bashful smile.

"Thanks. You’ve become much more confident, Kiyoaki."

"Combat has shaped me."

"I can tell. Let me introduce you to the team. You’ll be facing them in practice battles soon, so be friendly while you’re still on the ground."

At Kagura’s prompt, Kiyoaki began introducing himself to the twenty or so elite pilots. They came from all regions—West, Central, and East—united for a single cause.

The last person Kiyoaki met struck him as the quintessential "man of the skies."

"This is Special Lieutenant Ryu Won. He’s the only one undefeated in the practice battles so far. We can all learn a lot from him. I’ve been bested by him plenty," Kagura said, introducing the Central region pilot.

Ryu was a quiet young man in his mid-twenties, with a gaunt face and muscular arms—hallmarks of someone who had spent long hours flying in combat zones.

"Ryu Won. It’s an honour to meet you," Ryu said without much emotion, almost as if he were reciting the words.

Kiyoaki returned the salute.

"I’m Kiyoaki Sakagami. I look forward to learning from you."

For a brief moment, a dangerous glint flashed in Ryu’s eyes—one that only another pilot could understand. It was the look of someone whose pride had been challenged. Kiyoaki had merely spoken honestly, but it might have been interpreted as provocation.

He knows about me.

Thanks to the sensational articles written by the gossip-hungry press, Kiyoaki’s reputation as a rising ace had spread widely, and perhaps Ryu didn’t find it amusing.

Sensing the subtle tension, Kagura spoke gently.

"Every practice battle here is a great learning experience, and we have some time before Voltec arrives—maybe a month. You should sharpen your skills by then. You wouldn’t want Leo or Illia laughing at you when you meet them on the battlefield."

Kagura had already accepted the reality of fighting her former comrades. She was staying true to the promise made with Leo. Kiyoaki, however, wasn’t quite ready for that.

"... I’ll ask for a sparring match someday," Ryu said quietly, ending the conversation.

The looming battle with the Voltec Air Squadron was evident from the tense atmosphere among the pilots.

I need to be ready...

Kiyoaki steeled himself as he entered the officers’ quarters assigned to him.

Two days after Kiyoaki and his team joined the Kusanagi Air Squadron, the Imperial Navy’s fleet launched a massive air raid on Odessa on Messus Island. Over 250 Imperial carrier-based aircraft overwhelmed the Federation defences and neutralized their strongholds in a matter of hours. The ground forces continued their invasion, forcing the Federation Army to retreat into the island's interior, though their complete defeat seemed inevitable.

Both the port and airfield of Messus Island fell into Imperial hands. The Empire’s strategy was clear: attack Misato from both the north and east, via Isrion and Messus Island.

For the Federation, the critical defensive positions were the Karanakuta Fortress in the north and Tsurugi Island in the east. If those fell, Misato would be left vulnerable, unable to defend itself from large-scale bomber attacks. The Federation scrambled to reinforce Tsurugi and buy time, but Karanakuta’s defence was a concern. While Hydrabard’s military guarded it, having another nation protect such a key stronghold in this volatile, multi-nation conflict was far from ideal.

Time was running out.

Kusanagi Squadron’s top priority was to build up combat strength before Karanakuta fell. As a result, their training became so intense that fatalities became a matter of course.