Toaru Hikuushi e no Seiyaku:V7Part2

Part 2

Kiyoaki made a decision: he would no longer hesitate. He had chosen to fly, regardless of the consequences. It didn’t matter if he was criticized or ridiculed, labelled a fool, or scorned as a coward. He was ready to face any condemnation to continue flying.

For the first time, he had made a choice for himself. In an era where choosing one's own master was nearly impossible, a fleeting moment had granted him a choice:

Would he fly for the sake of his country, or for his irreplaceable comrades?

He chose, with his own will, to fly for the latter. And now, here he was, soaring through the sky.

"Kiyoaki, let’s go!"

"Yes, sir!"

Responding to the command from his squadron leader over the radio, Kiyoaki banked his plane at 4,500 meters, executing a half-roll to level out, now seeing the ocean above him as he dove downward.

June, Imperial Year 1350, Radat Territory, Siondal League, Vestelant Continent

The seas of the Vestelant Continent were turbulent. The whitecaps of the waves stretched endlessly like scales to the horizon, churning incessantly.

Amidst the frothing waves, friendly and enemy aircraft intertwined, leaving white contrails in their wake.

The silver-gray aircraft belonged to the Grand Duke of David's forces, though the pilots were from the Uranos Air Force, flying familiar single-seat fighters, the Ion.

On the opposing side were the dark-bronze planes of Kiyoaki’s group, the private air corps known as Valkyrie, flying single-seat fighters called Kazvaan. These fighters were equipped with two 20mm machine guns on the fuselage, two 14mm guns on the wings, and powered by a 2,000-horsepower engine developed by Berner Heavy Industries. Though the Kazvaan had been contracted for development by the St Vault Naval Air Force, it had not yet entered mass production. Valkyrie had received some of the 140 prototype units, deploying them in real combat over the Vestelant to showcase their capabilities to the St Vault military command.

Having flown the main fighter of the St Vault Air Force, the Beo-Eagle, Kiyoaki understood why the Kazvaan had not yet entered full production. On paper, its specs outmatched the Beo-Eagle, but it was difficult to control, requiring constant adjustments at higher altitudes, leaving little room for focusing on targeting the enemy.

However, in the hands of skilled pilots, the Kazvaan was a formidable machine.

And the Valkyrie pilots were indeed capable of harnessing its power.

The proof was in the sky above.

They're incredibly strong...

Nearly six months had passed since Kiyoaki had joined Valkyrie, and the dogfighting skills of his fellow pilots were beyond words. They lived up to their reputation as the world's strongest aerial force. Kiyoaki, who had flown with the elite Voltec and Kusanagi squadrons of two major nations, was astonished by how exceptional Valkyrie was.

As he dove into the combat zone, the wreckage of an Ion plane spewed black smoke, spiralling down from the sky. The shattered tailfin of the enemy aircraft whirled past Kiyoaki, spinning upwards into the heavens.

Ahead of him, another Kazvaan roared forward, closing the gap with another Ion to a point just before their tails touched. With minimal rounds, it downed the enemy craft. Despite the difficulty in handling the fighter, the Valkyrie pilots made it seem effortless, flying with the precision of an ace. Each enemy they encountered fell swiftly, leaving behind only their broken wreckage.

In this sky, Valkyrie’s pilots carried the banner of their organization, soaring above the clouds, unbound by any nation. These warriors of the sky sought freedom, rejecting the constraints of national loyalty. While each had different reasons for leaving their respective countries, one shared desire united them:

I want to fly with him.

I want to train with him.

Kiyoaki couldn’t deny that he had joined Valkyrie with that same admiration.

The figure who now inspired the world’s aerial pilots more than any other—the King of the Sky.

Unlike Karnasion of Uranos, who instilled terror in his enemies, this man was revered by his foes with a sense of awe.

That man was now in a steep dive, flying ahead of Kiyoaki.

The King of the Sky, Akmed.

Kiyoaki had experienced numerous dogfights as Akmed’s wingman, learning firsthand that the title was well-deserved.

He exists on a different plane.

Even though they flew the same aircraft, it felt as though Akmed existed in another realm, another dimension of time and space. His manoeuvres were impossibly sharp, closing in on enemies with perfect precision and taking them down with ease.

Even now, though they were both diving at the same angle, Akmed’s aircraft seemed to cut through the air effortlessly, shrinking into the distance. No matter how much Kiyoaki tried to minimize the vibrations of his plane, enduring the intense g-forces and pushing his craft to its limits, he couldn’t catch up.

The difference in precision of control makes all the difference.

Kiyoaki understood this in theory. But it still seemed beyond human ability—Akmed had merged completely with his plane, as if every effect the dive had on the aircraft was something he could feel within his own body.

I want to master his technique.

If I do, I can defeat Karnasion.

Kiyoaki’s ambition flared as he fixated on Akmed’s every movement, determined to absorb and learn from his mentor.

Once again, a fiery explosion bloomed over the ocean.

It was Akmed who had made the kill.

By the time Kiyoaki raised his gaze, there were no more enemies in sight.

Sighing, he pulled up his aircraft and scanned the skies, ensuring there were no lingering threats. His job now was to protect Akmed from any enemies lurking in his blind spots.

But the sky was clear. Only the graceful wings of his comrades, painted in bronze, cut through the now-secured sky.

We came, we saw, we conquered.

An old phrase from the chronicles of war echoed faintly in Kiyoaki’s mind.

What incredible people...

He was still awestruck. Every single battle he had fought over the past months had been against overwhelming odds—one pilot against three enemies, and yet, Valkyries' had consistently dispatched their foes.

There was no need for coordinated formations. Each pilot acted on their instincts, reading the situation and communicating by radio as they hunted and protected one another. It was as though the 30 aircraft in the sky were all parts of one living entity, perfectly synchronized. This was possible because of the daily strategy meetings led by Akmed.

In these meetings, Valkyrie pilots argued fiercely, replaying their battles with hand motions and sound effects, refining their tactics and pushing one another to excel. It was this competitive, collaborative atmosphere that forged Valkyrie’s strength. And at the centre of it all was Akmed, the King of the Sky.

Every evening, Akmed shared his knowledge without holding back, discussing not only the technical aspects of flying but also the mental preparation, the physical conditioning, and the daily training required to succeed in the sky.

"We are not a unit that stays in one place and defends a base. We go where our sponsors send us, where the enemy is. After the restoration of the royal family, we will maintain good relations with Berner Heavy Industries. If we lose our sponsors, we’ll lose our wings. It’s hard, but endure it. We won’t always be mercenaries—the royal family will be restored, and when that happens, we’ll be the Queen’s wings. Let’s keep our pride."

Akmed's words reminded the exhausted Valkyrie pilots that, despite the hardships, their goal was greater. The pilots nodded, swallowing their complaints, then headed to the mess hall to gorge themselves on the mediocre, oversized meals provided.

After dinner, the pilots drank and partied, no different from any other unit Kiyoaki had served with. As the night fell, food stalls and local women gathered near the camp, doing business with the mercenaries. One of the pilots strummed a guitar, filling the air with the melancholy tunes unique to the Vestelant.

While his comrades revelled in the festivities, Kiyoaki stood apart, gazing up at the starry sky. It had been almost six months since he became a member of Valkyrie, flying battle after battle across the war-torn landscapes of the Vestelant. He had grown used to the dry scenery, the heavily seasoned meat dishes, and even the harsh Scotch whiskey that once made him cough.

The strain on his body from these relentless days of dogfighting was far greater than anything he had experienced before. Valkyrie was always outnumbered, their aircraft often poorly maintained, and there were too few mechanics to service the planes. After each battle, Kiyoaki had to spend late nights working on his aircraft. Tonight would be no different.

Carrying a paper cup filled with his favourite meatballs from a local stall, Kiyoaki walked towards the hangar. Though the life of a mercenary was gruelling, there was one thing Valkyrie never compromised on:

They only fought against Uranos.

This was the reason Kiyoaki had left his homeland to join Valkyrie.

He wouldn’t fight against anyone else—only Uranos.

"That's Valkyrie Captain Akmed's pride," Kiyoaki thought, reflecting on the core of the squadron's existence. But it was more than just pride—it was also the will of Elisabeth Sylvania.

Valkyrie existed solely to fight against Uranos, the empire that had driven Elisabeth's kingdom to ruin.

"That's why I want to stay here."

In this era, no nation was truly just.

Kiyoaki had learned that hard truth.

Nations pursued only strategies that prioritized their own interests above all else. The aim was always to place other governments under their control, to siphon off wealth from other lands to fuel their military expansion. If a nation didn’t continue to grow, it would be consumed. It was an endless cycle: maintain military might, use it to subjugate others, and expand further. That was the essence of imperialism.

To sustain the ever-growing military machine, nations issued deficit bonds, raised taxes, and seized citizens' assets. The media was controlled to stoke patriotism, demonizing enemy nations while branding war opponents as traitors.

Though each nation shouted about its own "righteousness," the reality was the same everywhere. War was a convenient means to maintain and grow military power. The spoils of victory—resources and wealth—could be used to further bolster armies, which then required more resources to maintain. Eventually, it became a game of mutual destruction: each side battered the other until one was left with nothing but the hollow victory of a depleted and exhausted military.

This is the madness of imperialism, Kiyoaki mused bitterly. The more he understood it, the more absurd the nature of war appeared.

"I’ve had enough of it. I want to choose my own skies."

But more than anything...

"I never want to fight Illia again."

Kiyoaki had sworn to destroy Uranos when he became a pilot. He had not trained to shoot down those who were important to him, like Illia, nor those who had been mentors or beloved. His only goal was to defeat Uranos.

That’s why he no longer hesitated.

He didn’t care if people called him a coward or said he made the wrong choice. He didn’t mind if every citizen of his homeland threw stones at him.

"I'm flying to take Mio back."

"That’s why I joined Valkyrie."

It wasn’t for the sake of his country.

He wanted to fly for the sake of his comrades from their oath. He wanted to defeat Uranos and bring Mio back.

As he looked up at the stars, Kiyoaki’s mind conjured an image of Mio's smiling face. The girl he had hurt far more than he could ever forgive himself for. Nearly two years had passed since they were separated.

Her face, once so vivid, was now fading from his memory. That realization tightened his chest painfully.

And then, in his mind’s eye, Illia’s lonely expression rose alongside Mio’s.

It had been nearly six months since he last saw Illia. After swearing allegiance to Elisabeth, they had been separated almost immediately. To restore the Sylvania Kingdom, they needed the backing of the St Vault Empire, and bringing Illia into Valkyrie risked unsettling relations between the two nations. Yet Elisabeth, Illia’s close friend, desperately wanted her to join their ranks. For now, Illia had taken on a new identity and was flying under a different name in the far reaches of the Vestelant, with plans to join Valkyrie once political arrangements were settled. No one knew when that would happen.

"Is she safe? Is she well? Does she feel lonely?"

Worrying about Illia, Kiyoaki entered the hangar, greeted the chief mechanic, and climbed onto his aircraft, removing the cowling to inspect the engine. As he worked, Illia’s sorrowful expression stayed with him.

They had once faced each other in combat, had been captured by Akmed, and had stood before Elisabeth together. But despite all that, they had barely exchanged any words.

His emotions had been so chaotic that he couldn’t make sense of them, and in the end, they had parted ways awkwardly, heading to separate battlefields.

Kiyoaki still didn’t know what Illia had truly felt about their duel.

Illia shot at Kiyoaki, and Kiyoaki had shot at Illia.

And in doing so, Kiyoaki had come to a painful realization:

"I love Illia."

"I don't want to lose her."

"I want to stay with her, always."

Deep in his heart, these thoughts echoed endlessly. He longed for her more than anyone else, and his heart cried out for her.

But at the same time, another cry rose from within:

"Mio is in Pleiades, and she's crying."

He recalled Mio's innocent smile, the crown of canola flowers she wore. "I'm going to be Kiyoaki’s bride!" she had declared.

The memory of holding her in the cave during the storm returned to him—her small, vulnerable form still vivid in his mind.

"I hurt Mio..."

It made his heart bleed. He didn’t know what to do.

"Illia and Mio... they're both important. I can’t lose either of them."

"But trying to weigh my feelings for them on a scale is wrong. That would be insincere."

"They are both equally precious. The idea of choosing between them is vile."

Kiyoaki chastised himself for even thinking that way.

The bond between the seven of them from Eriadore was one of friendship.

It wasn’t about romantic relationships.

That would be impure.

"Don’t lose sight of your goal," he reminded himself.

He had to fight against Uranos, enter Pleiades, and bring Mio back.

He would fly for the future where all seven of them could smile and reunite once more.

As he worked on his engine late into the night, Kiyoaki reflected on his inner turmoil. These solitary hours with his aircraft were the most important time for him now.

As he lost track of time, standing on the landing gear, someone entered the hangar. Though people often came and went—other pilots and mechanics were always working—something felt different this time, and Kiyoaki looked toward the entrance.

It was Akmed.

Had he come to check on his own plane?

Beside him stood a girl in Valkyrie uniform, someone Kiyoaki hadn’t seen before.

Female pilots weren’t uncommon in Valkyrie, so her presence wasn’t entirely unusual. But something about her posture seemed familiar. Kiyoaki squinted in the dim lighting to get a better look.

Noticing Kiyoaki, Akmed guided the girl closer.

She had a slender figure, a sharp, dignified face, and light pink hair that ended just above her shoulders.

Her hairstyle and hair colour were different, but Kiyoaki recognized her immediately.

"Illia..."

Kiyoaki descended from the landing gear.

Illia stopped walking toward him, her expression tense as she awkwardly nodded in his direction.

Beside her, Akmed spoke calmly, explaining the situation.

"I’ve been working out the details everywhere, and it’s finally done. Illia is now officially a member of Valkyrie. She’s one of the best pilots out there, and I’d hate to see her sent back to St Vault."

Illia remained silent, her gaze dropping to Kiyoaki’s chest, avoiding his eyes. Akmed continued speaking.

"I understand Illia has her hesitations, but given the princess’s strong wishes and Valkyrie’s current state, sending her back to St Vault isn’t an option. She’ll stay here, with a new name and appearance, serving Valkyrie."

Kiyoaki, too, stayed quiet, listening to Akmed’s firm words.

"From now on, Illia’s name will be Therma Kruman when dealing with outsiders. You can still call her Illia within the squadron. Kiyoaki, teach her about Radat and help her get accustomed. It’ll be good for both of you to reconnect... Illia, I know you have your reservations, but give it up. Make this place your final battlefield."

Akmed added a slight joke to his last words, sensing the palpable awkwardness between the two of them. After a brief pause, he stepped back.

"You two have a lot of history. But from now on, you’re comrades in the same squadron. You’ll need all the information you can gather about the enemies, allies, and the terrain around here. I’ll leave you to it—make sure you talk things out."

With that, Akmed turned away and headed for his aircraft, leaving Kiyoaki and Illia standing there alone, exchanging uneasy glances.

"It's been a while, hasn’t it?" Kiyoaki finally broke the silence, trying his best to sound calm.

Illia, still avoiding his gaze, nodded stiffly.

"Yeah... about half a year, I guess."

Once again, their conversation fell into silence, both of them uncertain how to navigate the complex emotions between them.

Trying to shake off the awkwardness, Kiyoaki remarked, "You cut your hair."

Illia, still not looking at him, nodded like a bobbing water toy.

"Yeah."

"And your hair colour... it's different now."

"Yeah."

"........................"

"........................"

The air between them felt tense and uncomfortable again. Six months ago, during their duel off the coast of the flying fortress Suzaku, they had pointed 20mm machine guns at each other and pulled the trigger.

Now, standing on a distant continent, they were reunited under far different circumstances.

As Kiyoaki stood there, the memory of the words that echoed through the sky during their duel resurfaced in his mind.

"I love you."

"I love you."

In that moment, they had shared those words, their voices blending into the air. But with the passage of time, Kiyoaki had come to believe it was all just a figment of his imagination. It wasn’t possible to communicate through the air like that. His brain, oxygen-deprived and strained from flying at high altitudes, had likely conjured up the hallucination.

If there was one thing he had become certain of, it was his feelings for Illia.

Unable to think of what to say next, Kiyoaki was surprised when Illia finally raised her flushed face to look at him.

"Is it strange?"

"Huh?"

"My hair."

Summoning her courage, Illia looked at Kiyoaki, her expression tense.

Kiyoaki quickly shook his head.

"No, not at all. It’s... really great. It suits you."

"........................"

"Really. It’s... even better than before."

He struggled to offer the compliment, but it was genuine. The new look accentuated Illia's sharp features and strength, making her appear even more striking.

Illia’s cheeks flushed deeper.

"I see... well, that’s good, I suppose."

Despite her nonchalant tone, she seemed relieved, and they once again stood there, facing each other in silence.

There was so much they wanted to talk about—everything that had happened, everything that was yet to come. They had hardly spoken any ordinary words to each other over the years.

Kiyoaki scanned the area and spotted two familiar mechanics nearby, formulating an idea.

"Illia, are you busy tomorrow?"

"…?"

"There’s something wrong with my piston, and I’d like to check it out. Could you help me?"

"Oh, sure."

"Great. I’ll need to remove the engine—is that okay?"

"Yeah. I’ve never worked on a Kazvaan engine before, so it’ll be a good opportunity to learn."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. Let me get some help to remove it..."

Kiyoaki called over two mechanics, asking for their help with the engine. Though it wasn’t part of his original plan, it gave him an excuse to spend some time alone with Illia. The mechanics, eager to impress in front of Illia, efficiently removed the eighteen-cylinder radial engine and placed it on the floor. After receiving a pack of cigarettes from Kiyoaki as thanks, they returned to their duties.

Kiyoaki looked down at the engine and spoke to Illia.

"Let’s see... I think it might be the magneto or the spark plugs."

"We’ll know once we take it apart. Let’s get started."

Illia seemed more relaxed, her usual awkwardness easing as they worked together on the engine. As they bent over the machine, their heads naturally moved closer, the smell of engine oil mingling with the faint, familiar scent of Illia.

That scent alone tightened something deep within Kiyoaki’s chest.

It reminded him of the moment in the skies over Misato, when he had been pursued by Illia, ready to accept his death. In that moment, a voice within him had whispered:

"Illia... I think I’m in love with you."

As he looked at Illia now, busy inspecting the pistons, he felt his gaze wander toward her.

The dim, amber light from the bare bulb above cast a soft glow on Illia’s shortened hair.

His heart began to race.

So loud, it felt as if Illia might hear it.

Her deeply defined features, her pure green eyes reflecting the light—it all overwhelmed him.

He wanted to reach out, cup her chin, and claim her soft, pink lips.

No—he wanted to make all of Illia his.

A raw, primal urge surged through him, and in his kneeling position, he felt the impulse rise uncontrollably. Panicking, Kiyoaki forced his thoughts back to the engine in front of him.

What am I thinking?

He cursed himself inwardly, tearing his gaze away from Illia and focusing on the task at hand. Illia, engrossed in the engine, hadn’t noticed his fleeting, shameful thoughts.

Idiot. You’ve just reunited with her, and this is what you’re thinking?!

He bit his lip, mentally berating himself for his lack of composure. He was still far from mastering his own emotions.

This was precious time—a rare chance to be alone with Illia.

After falling from the flying fortress Odin during the war between the St Vault Empire and Akitsu, he had believed he would never see her again. And now, here they were, reunited, working on the same engine in the same squadron. This miracle was something he needed to cherish.

As they sat on the floor, cross-legged and polishing the removed shaft, Kiyoaki, for the first time that evening, steered the conversation away from the engine.

"You seem well. I’ve been worried about you these past six months. How was Campanella?"

"Yeah... the people were good. The battles were tough, and the machines were outdated, but I gained valuable experience."

"I’m glad. I feel the same—joining Valkyrie was the right choice for me."

"Yeah... I think so too."

"Do you?"

Illia fell silent for a while, clearly grappling with her thoughts.

Kiyoaki didn’t rush her for a response.

As they continued working in silence, polishing the metal parts, Illia finally began to speak, her voice soft and uncertain.

"After joining the Campanella Knights and becoming part of Valkyrie, I’ve been flying in so many unfamiliar places, fighting battle after battle... and I’ve spent all that time thinking. Thinking so much, I felt like I was losing my mind. I thought about so many things I had never considered before."

By now, the night had grown late, and the hangar was empty except for the two of them. Illia's delicate words seemed to echo in the stillness around them.

"I thought about nations, about Voltec Squadron, about everything that’s happened in my life. And I thought about what it means to fly and to shoot down enemies. I thought about all the things I had never questioned before. Having come so close to death, I’ve been forced to think about what I want to do with my life."

Illia spoke in halting sentences, as if struggling to put her feelings into words. Kiyoaki could sense the turbulence within her—feelings too complex to easily articulate.

"One thing is clear, though... If I have to choose between what’s right as a soldier and what’s right as a person, I want to choose the latter. That’s the conclusion I’ve reached after all this time."

Having said all this, Illia finally looked directly at Kiyoaki for the first time that evening.

She seemed to be seeking his thoughts on her decision.

Kiyoaki shifted his gaze from the polished metal in his hands and met her eyes.

"I feel the same way. I’m okay with being called a coward for abandoning my country. I just want to be a person first. That’s why I’m here."

More than anything, I never want to shoot at you again.

If it ever came to that, I’d abandon my country.

You mean more to me than the nation, the military, or its people.

These were the words Kiyoaki wanted to say but swallowed them instead. Something told him that if he spoke them out loud, things would never be the same between them.

Illia’s eyes seemed to glisten with moisture.

Perhaps the emotions Kiyoaki had just restrained leaked through his expression or the fragments of his words.

And that was okay, he thought.

Illia’s lips parted.

“…I see.”

She spoke briefly and then lowered her gaze.

“…To be honest, I’m still unsure about abandoning my country. I wonder if I should return to Voltec Squadron or at least let my father know that I’m safe.”

“……………………”

Kiyoaki could understand that. Illia had valued her comrades in the Voltec Squadron so much that she had aimed her gun at Kiyoaki and pulled the trigger. Her father, Karsten, would surely be relieved to hear she was alive.

But Illia was here, with Valkyrie.

Akmed had said it was because she was a prisoner, but the reality was different. She had flown proudly as one of Valkyrie’s pilots, fighting on the frontier over the past six months, honing her skills so they wouldn’t dull.

Why hasn’t Illia returned home?

That thought struck Kiyoaki. He hadn’t considered it before, but now he wondered. Unlike him, Illia had a father in her homeland and a family-like connection with the Voltec Squadron. There didn’t seem to be a strong enough reason for her to abandon all of that to remain in Valkyrie.

If there was something keeping her here...

“…Cecil... or rather, Elizabeth, probably wants you by her side.”

“…Yeah.”

“After the restoration, you’d be a great support for her. Cecil has always leaned on you, even when we were students... Just having you nearby would comfort her, don’t you think?”

Illia remained silent, her eyes still focused on the part she was polishing, not lifting her face. Like Kiyoaki, she absentmindedly fiddled with the over-polished shaft bearing in her hand.

Kiyoaki guessed that it was Cecil—Elizabeth—who had prompted Illia to stay with Valkyrie. But something about that explanation felt weak.

The St Vault Empire and the Sylvania Kingdom were, in practice, a suzerain and vassal state. For Elizabeth to declare the kingdom’s restoration, she would need the emperor’s approval. They were allies, not enemies, so even if Illia returned to the Voltec Squadron, it wouldn’t prevent her from continuing her personal relationship with Cecil.

In other words, Illia could still be there for Cecil even if she went back to the Voltec Squadron.

And yet—

Illia had abandoned her country and joined Valkyrie. She was here, sitting next to Kiyoaki, polishing parts.

Why is Illia here?

Just as he was about to voice that question, a thought suddenly flashed through Kiyoaki’s mind.

Because I’m here.

His breath caught in his throat, and the words he was about to speak were swallowed back.

His mouth, half-open mid-sentence, hung there awkwardly.

“…?”

Illia looked at him quizzically, noticing the dumbfounded expression on his face.

Kiyoaki froze.

“…What’s with that look?” she asked, frowning slightly. Kiyoaki snapped back to reality, closed his mouth, and hastily shook his head.

“It’s nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Don’t say something and then leave it hanging. What is it? If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“N-No, really. I wasn’t saying anything. It’s nothing.”

“…Do you think you can fool me? What is it? What’s bothering you? If there’s something on your mind, just tell me.”

Illia’s face started to flush, perhaps from anger or perhaps because she had sensed something. Her eyes wavered slightly, betraying her emotions.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s not bothering me. Really, it’s nothing…”

Kiyoaki’s voice trailed off, and he focused even harder on polishing the part in his hands.

That can’t be it.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Don’t get cocky. It’s disrespectful to Illia.

There’s no way she’d stay here for such a flimsy reason...

He desperately denied the foolish idea that had entered his head, searching for a more reasonable explanation.

“It’s just that Cecil... I mean, Elizabeth, would be happy with you here. That’s all I was trying to say.”

“…You already said that. Are you going to keep repeating yourself?”

“Yeah, sorry. That’s all I meant. That’s it.”

“…I’m not convinced. I can tell you’re hiding something.”

“No, no, I’m not. It’s just like I said. Anyway, look, the parts are all clean now. Let’s put them back.”

Kiyoaki hurried to reinstall the polished parts back into the engine, while Illia, still looking dissatisfied, helped him with the task.

Together, they lifted the eighteen-cylinder radial engine back into place and reconnected it to the aircraft.

“…Thanks. Sorry for keeping you so long. I really appreciate the help.”

“No problem. I got to learn about the Kazvaan’s engine, which is important since I’ll be flying it from now on.”

Kiyoaki turned off the lights and stepped out of the hangar, looking up at the starry sky of the Western Continent.

It reminded him of the nights on the beach of Mauregan Island, back when he was in the Voltec Squadron. Every night, he and Reiner, Kagura, Leo, Lulu, and Lala would gaze up at the stars, laughing and partying. It was only a year ago, but it felt like a distant memory now.

So much had happened since then. Reiner had returned to Uranos, Kagura had stayed behind in Akitsu, and Kiyoaki was now with Valkyrie, standing beside Illia.

What an odd twist of fate.

What will happen to the seven of us now?

“The stars are amazing. They remind me of Mauregan Island.”

“…Yeah. We used to mess around on the beach, all of us…”

“Did you hear about Captain Leo?”

“Yeah, Cecil told me. And about Lulu and Lala too. I’m glad they’re okay. I heard their first parachute descent didn’t go too well, but at least they weren’t seriously hurt.”

“…Yeah. I was relieved too. I mean, not that it’s my place to say so, but... really.”

Once again, their conversation trailed off.

Their casual reminiscence brought back memories of the aerial battle from six months ago.

Even though they had spent the entire evening together, that topic had yet to come up.

No, it was more accurate to say he avoided bringing it up—he didn’t have the courage to mention it.

Even though he wanted to be happy about seeing Illia again, he was afraid that mentioning that battle would ruin the joy of their reunion. But it felt strange to keep avoiding it forever. The awkwardness between them stemmed from that duel, and they both knew it.

Back then, we pointed guns at each other—with the intent to kill.

They both knew that if the 20mm cannon fire hit, their bodies would be blown apart, yet they still locked each other in their sights and pulled the triggers.

It wasn’t something they could just forget and go back to being how they were during their time at the Air Hunt Officer Academy.

I need to explain why I pulled the trigger.

I can’t keep running from this... It’s not fair to Illia.

That thought pushed Kiyoaki to lower his gaze from the night sky and look at Illia, whose face was softly bathed in the starlight.

“…Can we talk about what happened six months ago?”

Illia also lowered her gaze from the stars to meet his.

“…Yes, go ahead.”

Her expression didn’t change. She remained calm, her silhouette illuminated by the stars above.

Kiyoaki took a breath, gathering his thoughts, and summoned all the sincerity he could muster.

“I really intended to shoot you down.”

Illia remained silent, watching him, her expression unreadable.

“I hesitated for a long time. I couldn’t bring myself to shoot during the first dogfight. But I had promised to fight you for real if we met in the air again. So, the second time... I pulled the trigger. I killed many of your comrades in the Voltec Squadron. I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“……………………”

“And even after all that, I still want to be friends with you. It might sound strange, wanting to be friends after trying to kill you, but... still…”

Before Kiyoaki could finish, Illia shook her head.

“I intended to shoot you down too. And I killed many of your comrades. I won’t apologize for that either. It’s not something that should be measured by right or wrong... It just is.”

She paused, thinking for a moment before raising her head with a serious look.

“That was our fate. We both gained something and lost something. We were forced to make brutal choices, but neither of us ran away. We faced each other for real, and now, here we are. We can still be friends... and I think that’s enough.”

With the stars as her backdrop, Illia spoke these words and then smiled softly.

“We don’t need to hate each other. We made a vow.”

The vow the seven of them had made after their daring escape on the airship Eriadore.

"Even if we become enemies, we will not hate each other. Friendship is eternal."

Perhaps, Kagura, who had suggested that vow, had foreseen this situation somewhere deep in her heart.

That promise had allowed them to stay friends, even though they had killed people close to each other.

As long as they upheld that vow, the seven of them, despite being scattered across the world, would remain friends.

Kiyoaki smiled back.

“…Thank you, Illia. Let’s keep going together.”

The small smile on Illia’s face widened.

“…Yeah. Let’s keep going.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment, and to hide it, she clasped her hands behind her back and spun on her heel, looking back up at the stars.

The world seemed to fall silent.

The only sound Kiyoaki could hear was his own heartbeat, echoing in the quiet of the night.

As he watched Illia’s elegant form under the starry sky, something deep inside him stirred.

I want to hold her.

The impulse surged within him, barely kept in check by his rational mind.

I don’t want to fight her anymore. I want to love her.

That primal desire began to erode his restraint.

When had this animalistic drive crept into his soul? Or had it been there all along, lurking within the human condition? The force was terrifying, overwhelming, and it sent shivers down Kiyoaki’s spine.

Illia was the one to break the silence.

“…It’s getting late. We should head back and rest. Tomorrow, we’ll keep fighting.”

“Yeah. Let’s head back. Where’s the women’s barracks again?”

“They’re in a tent at the southern end of the base. Let’s walk together.”

They began to walk together under the vast night sky.

Illia, walking beside him, playfully bumped his shoulder from time to time, smiling mischievously.

“Kiyoaki.”

“Hm? What?”

“Nothing.”

Illia looked up at the stars as she said it, then bumped his shoulder again as they walked.

“Kiyoaki~”

“What’s that about?”

“No reason. Just felt like it.”

She grinned impishly and hummed a little tune as they continued walking. Not wanting to let her have all the fun, Kiyoaki bumped her shoulder back.

“Illia~”

“What?”

“Just felt like it.”

Illia snorted and chuckled. They continued walking, bumping shoulders, calling each other’s names as if to reassure themselves that they were both alive and here, together.

That feeling of joy lingered in Kiyoaki’s heart even after they parted ways.

As he looked up at the stars alone, Illia’s different expressions danced before his eyes. Even when he finally lay down to sleep, her smiling face filled his mind, leaving his heart brimming with happiness.

But, as always, Mio’s sorrowful face soon covered Illia’s.

And with it, a sharp pain tore through Kiyoaki’s consciousness once again.

The wound reopened, and an endless flood of guilt poured out.

Illia’s smile faded.

Mio’s sadness filled Kiyoaki’s heart.

As his memory of Mio grew fainter, Kiyoaki clung to it. In a way, the sorrow was a comfort, a reminder that she still existed within him. This grief was proof that Mio hadn’t disappeared from his life.

Mio... I want to see you again.

I want to apologize for everything.

One day, when he reached Pleiades, he would see Mio again.

He would get her back.

He didn’t fly for the sake of his country anymore; he flew to bring Mio back.

I want to take you back, and then...

Then...

Kiyoaki’s thoughts halted there.

All his efforts, all his striving, had been to someday become a leader, to challenge Uranos in a decisive battle, to reach Pleiades and reunite with Mio... but then what?

After I get Mio back... what then?

What would come after that?

If I get Mio back... what about Illia?

The question echoed in his mind.

And as soon as it did, he realized the ugliness of his own thoughts.

What am I thinking? That’s disgusting.

He felt a wave of self-loathing. He had asked himself the same question countless times before. He was sick of it, disgusted with himself.

Stop thinking about this.

Just focus on flying to Pleiades.

Scolding himself, Kiyoaki forced his eyes shut. But behind his eyelids, Illia’s smile and Mio’s tearful face continued to appear, over and over again.