Toaru Hikuushi e no Seiyaku:V6Part1

Part 15 - The Second Multi-Island Sea War (Continued) (Part 1 of Volume 6)

Every time I fly through the sky, my heart freezes.

Kindness, compassion, the desire to care for others and be grateful—all those human emotions are carried away by the high-altitude currents. In their place, a core of steel pierces through, treating everything in the airspace as inanimate objects to be captured and eliminated.

I am not killing people.

I am destroying the murderous machines that rain bombs indiscriminately on women, children, and the elderly living on the ground.

To complete the demolition work in the sky without fail, one must completely discard any impurities of humanity from their consciousness.

If you show mercy, in the next moment, you will be blown apart. All the effort you've poured into honing your mind, body, and spirit to their absolute limits will scatter like flowers in the fire, returning to zero as they are torn apart and blown away. The enemy, breaking through the wreckage, will kill more comrades and burn the cities where non-combatants live with a smirk on their face.

I am not a saint who can allow such things.

To keep all the people living in my homeland alive, I shoot down the enemy. That's all I need to think about.

Gripping the control stick of the Akitsu Federation Navy's single-seat fighter, the "Murasame," Sakagami Kiyoaki becomes a molecule of steel as he pursues the enemy aircraft.

The blue-Gray plane blends into the ocean below as it desperately tries to escape. It's the same St Vault Naval Air Force single-seat fighter, the "Beo-Eagle," that I was piloting just a month ago.

Even though I try not to think about it, my eyes inevitably go to the tail. The plane wobbles, and I spot a single yellow stripe. It's the mark of the St Vault aircraft carrier fighter squadron. The planes belonging to the strongest fighter squadron in St Vault, the Voltec Air Squadron, which I was once a part of, have three stripes—white, red, and blue—on the tail.

──It's not the Voltec Air Squadron. The enemy is a carrier-based aircraft.

I locked the blue-Gray enemy plane into the gunsight.

Shaking off any lingering softness in my heart, Kiyoaki squeezes the triggers for both the 20mm cannon and the 7.7mm machine gun simultaneously.

The roar of the machine guns shakes the plane as red tracer rounds streak toward the enemy.

As I tilt the control stick to the side and begin to turn, I catch a glimpse of the flaming enemy aircraft disappearing off to my rear-left.

There is no pain in my chest. There is no guilt over killing someone. There is no joy, no pleasure, no sense of achievement.

──Next.

It's like plucking the feathers off one bird and moving on to the next. That’s the closest feeling Kiyoaki has right now.

Altitude: 5,700 meters. I half-roll, looking up at the ocean, and take in the aerial battlefield from a bird's-eye view.

Against the bright blue sea background, the green-coloured fighters of the Akitsu Federation Navy and the blue-Gray carrier-based planes of the St Vault Naval Air Force are clashing near the coast of Messus Island. My eyes scan the entire airspace, searching for the enemy bomber squadron, but I can't see them. I spot my next target, turn my body, and dive like a hawk.

The helpless prey grows larger in the view from my windscreen.

Confirming the single yellow stripe on the tail, I close in to a sure-fire distance and pour 20mm cannon fire into the target.

I pass the new fireball as I continue my dive, and just as I spot my beleaguered ally, I latch onto the tail of the enemy aircraft that was pursuing them.

The enemy, focused entirely on peering through their sight, doesn’t notice Kiyoaki at their rear. I open the throttle, thinning the distance between us, and after confirming no enemy aircraft are behind me, I aim the 7.7mm machine guns at the enemy's tail.

The yellow stripe breaks apart into pieces, and the enemy aircraft loses control, flailing wildly like a kite with its string cut. After downing three planes in about fifteen minutes since the dogfight began, Kiyoaki calmly searches for the next bird to pluck.

──Eliminate the foreign objects from the sky.

With only that resolve buried deep in his gut, Kiyoaki soars through the battlefield.

The year 1349 of the Imperial Calendar, early October, Messus Island, Odessa.

At the Akitsu Federation Navy's first airfield in Odessa, Colonel Li Koutsu, the base commander, looked suspiciously at Kiyoaki as he received the battle report in the nearby air command post.

“You say you shot down five planes in that last dogfight?”

“That’s how it appeared to me.”

“If I were to take your report as is, that would make twenty-five planes in the last ten days alone. That’s more than our ace pilots.”

“I must be mistaken. The battle verification planes’ reports are more accurate. I don’t care about my number of kills, so please estimate the results at your discretion, Commander.”

Kiyoaki replied matter-of-factly, causing Commander Li to grunt in displeasure. After saluting, Kiyoaki left the commander's presence and walked toward the barracks.

Two young airmen, faces tense with nervousness, ran up from behind and stood stiffly to the side of Kiyoaki’s path. They both had sturdy builds, with flat faces and thick, short limbs—features typical of westerners. One of the boys raised his voice.

“Second Lieutenant Sakagami! I am Second Class Airman Jadamba Dambazolik! I watched your air battle from the ground just now!”

The other, a slightly more refined-looking young man with long limbs and supple muscles, also saluted with his chest puffed out.

“I-I am also a Second Class Airman, Nyutabaru Rensuke! I am deeply impressed by Second Lieutenant Sakagami’s skill!”

They both seemed young, probably around seventeen or eighteen, younger than Kiyoaki.

Kiyoaki stopped and returned the salute, his expression unchanged, and responded.

“Thank you. But there are plenty of people better than me.”

He said only that, in a tone devoid of emotion, and then left the two standing there as he walked toward the barracks.

Dambazolik and Rensuke exchanged glances and quickly ran ahead to stand stiffly by the side of the path again.

“With all due respect, I-I would like to become your disciple, Second Lieutenant Sakagami!!”

“I’ll do anything you ask!! Please teach me the techniques of aerial combat!!”

Kiyoaki stopped and cast a glance at the two.

“There are many excellent airmen among the non-commissioned officers. You should ask them.”

Dambazolik pursed his lips and shook his head.

“There are! There are, but…”

“The way they teach is… well…”

Both hesitated, unable to express something. But Kiyoaki could understand what they were trying to say. It was about the bad customs within the Akitsu Federation military.

“Commander Li has forbidden corporal punishment.”

“Yes! It is forbidden, but…”

Rensuke answered with that, his expression serious as he stared straight ahead, his eyes unwavering.

Though it is forbidden, it seems corporal punishment is still practiced in the non-commissioned officers’ barracks.

I do feel sorry for them.

"I'm not that good, and I'm not that important. You should ask someone else."

With those curt words, he left the two behind and returned to the officers' barracks.

He sat at his desk and started reading the instruction manual for officer pilots. He needed to learn the unique methods of the Akitsu Navy, which differed from the St Vault Naval Air Force. While he was drilling the contents into his head, an officer he had known for a long time entered the barracks and spoke to Kiyoaki.

"As expected of the son of Master Sakagami, Kiyoaki. That air battle just now blew my mind."

Kiyoaki immediately stood up straight.

"Colonel Ogiya...! I’m honoured."

"Relax. I just came to chat. But seriously, that brat who used to fly planes around without permission has really grown up..."

Odessa Air Squadron’s operations staff officer, Colonel Ogiya Haruhiko, laughed heartily as he sat down in the chair next to Kiyoaki, lighting up a cigarette from the rations. He blew a cloud of purple smoke and motioned for Kiyoaki to sit down again. This staff officer, now forty-one years old, was a veteran who had also participated in the First Multi-Island Sea War.

"How many air battles have you been in since returning here?"

"Twenty-two times."

"How many kills?"

"Seventeen confirmed, and fifteen unconfirmed."

Ogiya whistled.

"That’s a lot of unconfirmed kills."

"Yes. The commander even called me a liar earlier."

Kiyoaki answered with a bitter smile.

"We do have battle verification planes, but they’re not perfect. The numbers are somewhat arbitrary. But looking at how you fight, I feel like you should have more confirmed kills."

Ogiya said this and shot Kiyoaki a serious look for just a moment. Kiyoaki could only respond with another bitter smile.

"I don’t care much about the number of kills. It doesn’t really matter to me."

Since childhood, Kiyoaki had known Ogiya well and often practiced piloting aircraft secretly with him, which made his tone naturally more casual.

"It matters. The number of kills determines a pilot’s status. That’s why false reports are so common..."

Ogiya scratched the back of his head in frustration. After a dogfight, the number of kills was tallied based on the pilot's verbal report to the air command. As a result, dishonest pilots could inflate their kill counts to boost their standing. Although the battle verification planes flew over the battlefield to measure the results, miscounts were frequent. In the end, kill counts were often unreliable.

"But you’re different. From what I’ve seen, you’ve taken down more than seventeen. In just this past month alone, haven’t you surpassed thirty?"

Ogiya’s sharp gaze intensified.

──By my count, it’s thirty-two.

Kiyoaki murmured this in his heart but shook his head.

"Even seventeen is more than enough. I don’t pay it much mind."

"You’re being modest. The top brass at the air command are talking about you, you know. They say we’ve got a really strong officer pilot."

"It’s an overestimation. I’m more surprised they put me on the front lines so quickly."

A week after escaping the Odin fortress with Kagura Murasaki, Kiyoaki was assigned as a Second Lieutenant to the Odessa Air Squadron on Messus Island. After conducting a brief inquiry into the circumstances surrounding the cadet who had been trained in enemy territory, St Vault, the navy command swiftly commissioned him as an officer and sent him to a strategically important stronghold. Kiyoaki couldn’t comprehend their reasoning.

"Well, one reason is that we simply don’t have enough skilled officer pilots. The other reason is… they want you to become a hero quickly. As the son of Master Sergeant Sakagami Masaharu, the hero of the First Multi-Island Sea War, they believe you have that potential."

Ogiya laughed joyfully as he observed Kiyoaki’s troubled expression and gave him a casual pat on the shoulder.

"The higher-ups must be thrilled that their plan worked. It would have been bad if you’d hesitated to shoot down Imperial aircraft, but you’ve been taking them down left and right this past month. You’re not still attached to St Vault, are you?"

"...I’m a soldier. I don’t bring personal feelings into this. I was able to study military science in St Vault thanks to the tax money of Akitsu citizens. Besides, as I was leaving, my squadron commander told me not to hold back in battle."

In the back of Kiyoaki’s mind, the words of Captain Leo Rosenmuller, commander of the Voltec Air Squadron, echoed. His admiration for Leo had not faded.

Ogiya crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded deeply.

"That’s the spirit of chivalry. There are plenty of admirable soldiers over there, too. But we’re the descendants of samurai; we have to fight proudly."

After sharing his thoughts on the future of the war and the internal affairs of the Odessa Air Squadron, Ogiya stood up.

"Well, I’ve got to get going. You’re done for the day, right? I’ll lend you my bike. Why don’t you go visit the graves?"

"Is that okay?"

"You’ve only gone once, right? Your father might get lonely. Go show him you’re doing well."

"Thank you so much!"

Kiyoaki bowed his head in joy. After leaving the barracks with Ogiya, they came to a military motorcycle covered in dust. Ogiya’s quarters for senior officers weren’t too far away, so he must have brought the bike just for Kiyoaki to use.

After receiving the key and waving at Ogiya’s retreating figure, Kiyoaki mounted the bike and started the engine.

Compared to the beloved bike he used to ride in St Vault, this one had half the displacement, an old engine, and was clearly poorly maintained, but in the Akitsu Federation, it was still a luxury item that most commoners couldn’t afford. As he stepped on the gear, it belched a large cloud of black smoke before it started to move.

Once he got the feel for the shifting, he steered onto the bumpy road and headed toward the old city of Odessa.

The familiar scenery of his homeland passed by on both sides, though signs of destruction were vividly apparent everywhere. The abandoned rice paddies were dried up, and the livestock barns, silos, windmills, and irrigation systems in the gently sloping pastures and farmland were mostly destroyed. The area where a village once stood was now bare, and half-burnt wooden houses stood solitary, with their charred beams sticking out of the ground. Wildflowers clustered beside them, and Kiyoaki stopped the bike to pick some flowers for the graves.

He had spent his childhood on this island, and many colourful, happy memories remained. However, the current state of his homeland, which had become a frontline in the Second Multi-Island Sea War, filled him with an oppressive greyness and the stench of death. The further he rode, the heavier the weight of melancholy settled upon him.

After crossing two mountain passes, he could see the old city in the distance beyond the mountain range. It was about thirty kilometres from the barracks where Kiyoaki was stationed, making it difficult to visit without a vehicle. A month ago, when he had first been assigned to the island, he had hitched a ride on a truck heading to the old city to visit his family's graves, but finding a ride back had been a struggle. The Akitsu Federation military had fewer transport vehicles compared to the St Vault military, and the roads were underdeveloped, making even short trips difficult.

──This country is poor...

Looking at his homeland again through the eyes of someone who had studied in St Vault, the stark reality hit him hard. The appearance of the city, the people's clothing, the infrastructure—everything was inferior to St Vault.

──And the military equipment too...

He couldn’t deny that fact. After spending two years studying abroad in St Vault, forming friendships across borders, and coming to love and respect that country, he still couldn’t erase his love for his homeland.

──Why are we fighting...?

Meeting the people of St Vault had made him realize how simplistic it was to label one side as good and the other as evil. People in both St Vault and Akitsu had good and bad qualities; they were just normal people. Yet, the two nations were pointing across the great divide at each other, branding the other as an evil empire while shouting about their own righteous causes, sending millions of young men to the battlefield.

No matter how much they dress it up with beautiful rhetoric, the true purpose of the war is to bring another country’s government under control. By doing so, they can ensure their own country’s safety, expand their influence, and increase their capital.

In a battlefield where bows and swords were used, the benefits of subjugating and plundering the enemy were substantial. The budget required for war was relatively low, and by seizing the enemy’s wealth, land, and people, the investment would be more than recouped.

But in modern warfare, which requires vast amounts of aircraft, tanks, and weapons of mass destruction, the resources expended are on a completely different scale. Nations must issue government bonds to fund the war, but even if they win, the losses will far outweigh the gains. The national economy, burdened with massive debt, will be driven to collapse.

Both nations are throwing all their resources, wealth, and human lives into the abyss. That’s all Kiyoaki can see.

──What is a nation, anyway...?

Even the grand question of "what is a nation?" crept into his mind. As soon as Kiyoaki realized it, he brushed the doubt away from his thoughts. How could a mere soldier entertain such lofty concerns? He scolded himself.

Right now, he was a soldier fighting for the Akitsu Federation. He had studied in St Vault to bring the knowledge gained back to the Federation, fully aware that one day he might have to face his friends as enemies. Just as he had sworn to Leo and Illia at their parting, Kiyoaki believed the most honourable path was to fight St Vault’s knights head-on, as a proud samurai, with dignity and fairness.

As he descended the winding road in the clear autumn sunlight and passed through the thick grove, he arrived at the coast, where the remains of his family’s home once stood in the old residential district.

Five years ago, when Kiyoaki was fourteen, he had erected a piece of building material in place of a gravestone, which still stood, though it had decayed over time.

The collapsed house was now overgrown with weeds, but the area around the gravestone was still clean from when he had tidied it during his last visit.

The sun was setting, and Kiyoaki’s long shadow stretched over the three gravestones. The sky, on the verge of turning red, sent a silent breeze that softly ruffled his hair.

Kiyoaki stood still, holding the flowers he had picked.

Beneath this ground lay his father, mother, and sister, all killed by Urano.

The frustration and anger of that time, when he could do nothing but watch Urano's attack, returned to him. If only he had possessed the skills to pilot a fighter back then, his family wouldn’t have been lost so easily.

“I’m nineteen now, Dad, Mom, Sister. I’ve become a full-fledged pilot for the Akitsu Federation Air Force.”

As he spoke to the gravestones, a gentle breeze blew through. In the wind, there was a fleeting feeling, as if someone familiar were near.

Upon returning to the Federation, after undergoing practical and academic evaluations, Kiyoaki had been recognized as a full officer pilot. During his time in St Vault, he had only been a cadet, so he had not yet been certified as a pilot, but due to the Akitsu military’s shortage of personnel, they seemed desperate to get new pilots into the battlefield, and Kiyoaki had passed the exam with surprising ease.

“I’ll do my best to ensure that no one living on this island has to suffer the same fate as you, Dad, Mom, or Sister.”

As Kiyoaki spoke to his lost family, he organized his thoughts. The life of a soldier, constantly facing death, had gradually numbed his emotions, making it easy to forget why he had become a soldier in the first place and what he was fighting for.

He knelt, put his hands together in prayer, and wished for his family’s peaceful rest before standing up.

“I’ll come again. I’ll be on this island for a while, so I can visit as often as I like.”

With that farewell, he mounted the bike and left his family’s resting place behind.

There was somewhere else he wanted to go. During his previous visit, he hadn’t had the means of transportation to reach the other important place on this island.

On the way, he passed by what used to be a field of canola flowers. Now overgrown with weeds and unrecognizable, the memory of a girl laughing in the bright summer sun was still vivid behind his eyelids.

“If you become a pilot, you have to take responsibility.”

Wearing a tiara made of canola flowers, the twelve-year-old girl had said that to Kiyoaki.

“Don’t forget the promise! Swear it on this tiara!”

Twelve-year-old Kiyoaki, though shy and hesitant, made a vow to the girl.

“I swear on this tiara, I’ll marry you.”

The promise, made without understanding its meaning, now squeezed his heart with unbearable intensity, seven years later.

As he sped along, he looked up at the sunset sky.

“Mio.”

He called out the name of someone whose whereabouts were now unknown.

“I want to see you.”

The image of Mio, as she had been, enveloped him and blended into the landscape. The longing, the pain, the urge to scream pressed up from his diaphragm, but Kiyoaki suppressed the burning impulse and sped up toward the hilltop.

Once, the Sakagami family’s vineyard had been here. From the hillside, the view of Odessa stretched before him.

He parked the bike on the cracked, barren land and gazed out at his dimming hometown.

Five years ago, two weeks after Urano's sudden assault on Odessa.

Kiyoaki had stood on this very hill with Mio, gazing down at the burned city, and had sworn to dedicate his life to a singular goal.

“I will destroy the Urano, The Sky Clan.”

“I have to obliterate Urano and create a world without war. I will do it with my own hands.”

It was a dream too grand for a fourteen-year-old boy.

But he still held on to that dream.

In fact, it burned more strongly now than it did back then.

And the driving force behind that dream was Mio.

“I will take you back.”

He layered this new resolve onto his lifelong dream.

No matter how long it takes, he would fulfill the promise he made to Mio here on this hill.

“I’ll come to you. Someday, I swear.”

These words of determination rose from a heart that bled from the pain of loss.

──I can’t let things end like this.

──I will go to Pleiades.

──I will burn down the capital of Urano and take Mio back…!

To achieve such a vast dream, there was no choice but to put forth the best effort in the place where he had been assigned and climb the ladder one step at a time. It was slow, but it was the most certain way to reach his goal. Even though he now stood against St Vault, he could still give everything for the sake of that goal.

Bathed in the crimson light of the setting sun, Kiyoaki gazed down at his homeland and reaffirmed the path he must follow.

The next morning, the enemy carrier aircraft launched another raid.

Rushing out of the standby area, they raced to get into their planes first and took off.

Dogfights had become part of the daily routine on the real front lines. Every day, many enemies were shot down, and many allies were shot down in turn. Even the slightest moment of carelessness could be the end of your life. Living on the edge of life and death, with nerves constantly on edge, a single day on the front lines was so intense that it felt like a year compared to living in peace. It was said in hushed tones among the Odessa Air Squadron that if you survived a month, you were considered a veteran. Kiyoaki was approaching that one-month mark.

It felt like years had passed since he was assigned to the squadron. The more he fought with the Odessa Air Squadron, the further his memories of his time in St Vault seemed to fade into the distance.

But there was no time for sentimentality.

There was only one thing to do in this sky.

──I am a machine that shoots down the enemy.

Now, even without conscious thought, that idea filled his mind. There was no room for unnecessary pity or sympathy.

With a calm expression, he crept up under the enemy and cut them down with a single shot from his 20mm cannon.

The enemy pilot probably had no idea what had happened as they were suddenly engulfed in flames.

Piercing through the shattered debris, Kiyoaki soared higher into the sky.

There was no excitement. He simply looked down with cold eyes. One of his allies was being pursued by three Beo-Eagles.

He dove straight down, locked onto the lead plane, which seemed to be the squadron leader, and zoomed in.

He squeezed the trigger of the 20mm cannon, blasting the enemy plane apart, and flew past the wreckage. The remaining enemy planes scattered left and right in confusion, staring at the sudden death of their leader.

Just then, a familiar voice came through the speaker.

“Second Lieutenant Sakagami!! Thank you so much!!”

He could hear a slight western accent in the short message. Glancing to the left, he saw the pilot of the friendly plane that had been pursued waving at him. It was Jadamba Dambazolik, the Second Class Airman who had asked to be his apprentice yesterday. Kiyoaki raised his hand in response, then turned again to search for his next target.

All distractions faded away. Only the pure will to fight sharpened his mind. Kiyoaki became one with his single-seat fighter, the "Murasame," and continued to drive his steel claws into the enemy aircraft.

That day, Kiyoaki shot down four planes. However, the battle verification plane recorded only two confirmed kills for the rookie Second Lieutenant who had returned from St Vault. Kiyoaki, unbothered by this, completed his report and was walking back to the barracks.

“It's been a while, Second Lieutenant Sakagami.”

Suddenly, someone called out to him from behind.

When he turned around, he saw a familiar woman looking at him with a serious expression.

“Ah… It's been a while, Utaguni.”

It was Utaguni Tokiwa, a reporter from one of the major newspapers of the Akitsu Federation, the Akitsu Daily News.

“Thank you for your help the other day. Thanks to you, the article received a great response.”

Wearing glasses and a suit, Utaguni thanked him in a businesslike tone without even a smile.

“…No, not at all.”

Kiyoaki felt uneasy around her. Two years ago, Utaguni had come to interview him at the Air Hunt Officer Academy, but the interview seemed only to push her agenda. She repeatedly asked intrusive questions to Illia, who was present, and eventually, Kiyoaki had to leave the interview with Illia in tow. The article she later wrote exaggerated their mock air battle, presenting it as if it were a proxy war between St Vault and the Akitsu Federation.

“…What brings you here today?”

Kiyoaki asked cautiously, and Utaguni responded coldly, as if it were the most natural thing.

“I’m planning a special feature on you, Second Lieutenant Sakagami. I’ve come to meet with the public relations officer of the Odessa base. I expect to get permission for the interview soon.”

Kiyoaki felt disheartened. He didn’t want to become the subject of one of Utaguni's articles. Naturally, his tone became colder.

“…And what are you planning to do with me this time?”

“I’m just here to document your natural state. The son of a former ace pilot returns to his destroyed hometown and contemplates what it means to fight and kill his foreign friends—that's what the article will focus on.”

Utaguni’s manner of speaking irritated him. Perhaps she was deliberately trying to provoke her subjects in order to expose their true feelings.

“…Feel free. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use too much exaggerated language. Excuse me.”

Kiyoaki curtly ended the conversation and turned his back on Utaguni. He felt her cold gaze following him as he walked away, but he didn’t look back.

──I’ve run into someone I really didn’t want to see. I’d rather not get involved with her...

Being the son of the ace pilot Sakagami Masaharu meant that people had excessive expectations of him, which was frustrating. The thought of Utaguni manipulating his image, just as she had before, was also deeply unpleasant. He didn’t want to experience the bitterness of the last interview again, but even if he tried to avoid her, she would likely invade his personal space without hesitation. Having been thrust into the spotlight in St Vault as one of the “Seven of Eriadore,” he understood all too well how relentless the media could be.

What a hassle… As he continued walking, two more young men appeared in front of him, their faces tense with anticipation.

“Second Lieutenant Sakagami!! I can’t express how grateful I am that you saved my life earlier!!”

Dambazolik stood with his back straight, shouting at the top of his lungs, loud enough to hurt Kiyoaki’s ears.

“Second Lieutenant Sakagami is truly our ideal leader!! Please, we humbly request to serve under you as your wingmen!! We’ve come to ask again!!”

Rensuke, his cheeks flushed with excitement, echoed in an unnecessarily loud voice. Feeling uncomfortable, Kiyoaki stopped walking and glanced back. Sure enough, Utaguni was watching them closely, her glasses glinting.

With a sigh, which he made sure the two could hear, Kiyoaki looked at Dambazolik.

“The selection of wingmen is up to Captain Maolong. You should ask him. It’s not something I can decide.”

When he brushed them off, Dambazolik’s face grew even more tense, and he was at a loss for words.

“Second Lieutenant…!! We want to become stronger in the air, that’s our only wish!! If we serve under you, we can refine our skills even more and protect you in battle...!!”

Rensuke spoke desperately, almost pleading. From the way they were acting, Kiyoaki suspected that these two had likely been subjected to unreasonable treatment by their non-commissioned officers.

The Akitsu Federation, true to its name, was a federal state formed by the union of several small nations and communities. In order to counter large countries across the Multi-Island Sea, the cities, small nations, and communities on the same continent chose to coexist under one government. However, the forced unification of so many disparate powers had created various tensions within the military, leading to frequent clashes rooted in ignorance, intolerance, and discrimination.

Broadly speaking, the main groups within the military were the Easterners like Kiyoaki and Ogiya, the Centralites like Colonel Li and Captain Maolong, and the Westerners like Dambazolik. There had been over a thousand years of rivalry between these groups over the continent’s hegemony, and the negative emotions ingrained in their bones had not yet been fully extinguished. Ethnic conflicts stemming from these old grudges often flared up within the military. It was possible that both Dambazolik and Rensuke were frustrated with these tensions. They might have hoped that, since Kiyoaki had returned from St Vault and wasn’t steeped in the bad customs of the Akitsu military, they could train with him purely to improve their dogfighting skills.

“…Sorry, but I don’t have anything to teach you. I’m just trying to survive myself.”

Kiyoaki said coldly, keeping his expression as mechanical as possible.

“P-Please…!!”

“…Please stop this. I don’t want to draw any unwanted attention from my superiors.”

He spoke even more coldly this time and quickly walked away from the two. He could feel their lingering emotions clinging to the back of his neck, but he pushed forward and returned to the officers’ barracks.

He immediately sat down at his desk and opened the flight manual. There was still a mountain of things he needed to study, and he really didn’t have time to deal with Dambazolik and Rensuke.

──Is that all?

As Kiyoaki studied the Akitsu Federation’s unique air combat formation manual, a sudden question arose from within him.

──Is that really the only reason I can't make them my wingmen?

A voice echoed from deep inside, questioning himself.

He looked out the window at the early autumn sky.

He already knew the answer to his own question.

The reason he didn't want to make those two his wingmen wasn’t because it was beyond his authority or because he was too busy studying.

The real reason was something entirely different.

──I don’t want to increase the number of people who matter to me any more…

In this era, in these circumstances, if he were to add more important people to his life, it would only bring more sorrow.

The parting with Mio. The parting with Illia. The parting with Balthazar, Cecil, and Reiner. The parting with his wonderful comrades in the Voltec Air Squadron.

The more he met amazing people, exchanged words, and felt their presence grow heavier in his heart, the deeper and greater the sorrow of parting became. At night, when he was overwhelmed by loneliness, sadness, and the irrationality of it all, his heart would scream, calling out the names of those no longer with him. No matter how far he reached, no matter how loud he shouted, no matter how fast he ran beneath the stars after bursting out of the barracks, he could never reach Mio, Illia, or any of the people who meant so much to him.

He didn’t want to add anyone else important to his life anymore. If he accepted them as his wingmen, before he knew it, those two would surely become important to him. The weight of the people he already held dear would fade, and the weight of the people living right in front of him would grow.

He couldn’t bear that.

He knew it was a sentimental, naïve thought, but within himself, there was no longer room to hold onto anyone irreplaceable. If he were to increase the number of important people, he feared he might push aside those he had once cherished.

That’s why he no longer wanted to actively interact with others. There was no meaning in adding more sources of sadness and loneliness to his heart.

He wanted to be alone as much as possible.

In the Akitsu Federation, there was only one person in his life right now who was truly important to him.

──Kagura.

Of the “Seven of Eriadore,” she was the only one still with him. A dignified, kind swordswoman, who resembled his deceased older sister, Yumiko, who had died before his eyes.

──I hope you’re doing well, Kagura.

As he gazed out the window, Kiyoaki thought of Kagura.

Right after they escaped from the Odin fortress and returned to the Akitsu Federation, a messenger from the imperial family of the Keiken Dynasty had suddenly visited Kagura. She quickly made preparations, smiled at Kiyoaki, saying, "We’ll definitely meet again," and left with the messenger to journey to the imperial capital, "Misato."

No one in the military had been told any details. However, the Keiken Dynasty had been revered for over two thousand years by the Easterners as a “divine family.” Since transitioning to a federation with other ethnicities, they no longer held any real power, existing only as a symbolic representation of the Easterners’ ethnic identity.

Though they had no authority, the imperial family still wielded significant influence over the Easterners. It made Kiyoaki wonder even more about who Kagura truly was, to be summoned by such an important institution.

──I’d heard she was from a samurai family, but maybe her status is much higher than I thought...

Since she was personally summoned by the imperial family, that must be the case. Thinking back now, Kiyoaki regretted how little he actually knew about the person who had always been by his side.

──We’ll meet again, right, Kagura…?

Unlike the comrades he had been separated from in other countries, Kagura was still in the same Akitsu Federation. If he wanted to see her, there was a way. Although he didn’t know what kind of treatment she was receiving within the imperial family, he imagined that, as usual, Kagura was calmly and gracefully navigating her interactions with the nobility. To meet her again, he couldn’t afford to die in the sky. As he swore to himself that he would return safely from tomorrow’s air battle, Kiyoaki turned his gaze from the window back to the flight manual.

The name given to the symbol of hope was "Suzaku".

The 1.4 million citizens of the imperial capital, Misato, poured out into the plazas and streets, looking up at the sky in October, cheering like a rumbling earthquake at the sight of the "Flying Island," which they had only heard about in stories until now.

From the rock formation flying at an altitude of 2,000 meters, a shower of colourful confetti rained down, adding to the triumph of the procession. Numerous aircraft and airships formed a protective formation around it. Once called "Balsinos" when it belonged to Urano, the fortress had now been renamed "Suzaku", serving as the guardian deity of the Akitsu Federation and boosting the morale of the people.

The massive rock formation, 28 kilometres long and 15 kilometres wide, soared through the autumn sky, its propulsion system roaring thunderously. The citizens openly expressed their excitement, clapping and shouting "banzai" at this new hope born in the sky, while casting their eyes down to the ground, where prisoners from Urano and St Vault, crammed into the backs of dozens of trucks, were subjected to jeers and ridicule.

“Serves you right, you cowardly wretches!”

“Shame on you, savages!”

“All traitors must be killed!”

It wasn’t just words—they threw small stones from the roadside as well. The Urano and St Vault prisoners, who had been fighting each other just two months ago, were now packed together in the same trucks, heads bowed as they endured the Akitsu people's stones. The unprecedented three-way battle fought over Messus Island, Odessa, and the flying fortress Balsinos had ended in victory for the Akitsu Federation, leveraging their geographical advantage. The captured Balsinos was intact, with neither its rudder nor propulsion systems destroyed, and the Urano crew was now being interrogated to study how to operate it. If this massive flying island could be deployed with full combat capability to the front lines, the dream of dominating the Multi-Island Sea would no longer seem far-fetched. The excitement among the Akitsu people knew no bounds.

“Destroy Urano!”

“Make St Vault surrender!”

“The Multi-Island Sea belongs to the Akitsu people! Drive out the foreign invaders!”

The crowd roared with bold decLalations. Two months had passed since the start of the Second Multi-Island Sea War, and the Federation's war spirit was only rising. The three main ethnic groups—Easterners, Centralites, and Westerners—who didn’t usually get along well, were now united in their resistance against the white-skinned people from across the sea. With the imposing sight of "Suzaku" above them, the citizens spread words of bravery as if they had already won the war.

Meanwhile, in the heart of the frenzied imperial capital, Misato, a vast, cool forest stood quietly, marking out a 2.5-kilometer circular boundary. Viewed from Suzaku above, it would appear as a dark green cushion in the midst of a grey carpet of buildings. If one looked closely, they could see a concentric structure with both outer and inner walls nestled within the deep forest.

The first moat, filled with vibrant water, the high stone walls, and white-plastered fences winding like a labyrinth, along with over ten lookout towers placed at every turn, eventually led to a magnificent main palace—the residence of the Keiken Dynasty.

A short distance from the main palace, beyond a garden blooming with hundreds of flowers, lay the most secluded corner of the imperial residence, with an inner palace by an artificial pond filled with clear water.

The wing of the residence extended over the pond in a raised-floor style, with the water shimmering underneath. Kagura Murasaki, dressed in the military uniform of the Akitsu Federation, was sitting formally within the wing, her eyes closed.

Her uniform, predominantly black, clung to her skin. Silver braiding adorned her chest, a red stripe ran down her shoulder insignia, and a swallow motif decorated the red badge on her high-collared uniform.

It was the formal attire of the Keiken Guard Division, charged with protecting the imperial family.

This elite independent combat unit, which was not under the direct command of the Akitsu Federation military, operated on its own, tasked with a singular mission: to protect the Keiken Dynasty. The unit consisted of four heavy airships, one hundred intercept fighters, and 13,000 ground troops. The uniform Kagura wore signified her belonging to the most elite bodyguard unit of the Keiken Guard, the Shinmei Corps, responsible for the personal protection of the imperial family.

The stillness within the pavilion over the water was serene. The cries of a wagtail bird echoed through the island in the pond, deepening the silence. A cool breeze, carrying the scent of fresh water, passed through the open-air pavilion, causing the tied-up hair at the back of Kagura's head to gently sway. Despite this, Kagura remained motionless, her eyes still closed in deep meditation.

Then, a voice came from behind her.

“Does that look like hope to you?”

Kagura opened her eyes.

Reflected on her retinas was the majestic sight of Suzaku flying in the distant sky. The owner of the voice didn’t wait for a reply and walked past Kagura, all the way to the edge of the wooden platform, turning around with Suzaku towering behind him in the sky.

Dressed in a jet-black military uniform with two golden braids and a large Sakura Order of Merit on his left chest, with a single golden stripe on his shoulder—the formal attire of the Commander of the Imperial Guard Division.

“To me, it looks like a harbinger of destruction.”

His voice was somewhat high-pitched, refined, and carried a deep tone of sorrow. His pale, androgynous face, with eyes that slanted nervously upwards, paired with his slicked-back hair parted in a 7:3 ratio, made him seem older than his 22 years, weighed down by a bitter expression.

Kagura placed both hands on the floor and bowed deeply.

“Forgive my presumption, but I share your sentiments.”

She spoke her frank words into the wooden floor.

The Crown Prince of the Keiken Dynasty, Daitoku Shinnou, furrowed his brows in sorrow as he looked down at Kagura.

“You studied in St Vault, so you must understand the power of that country. Do you think we can win this war?”

Knowing that the Crown Prince sought nothing but honest words from her, Kagura answered without hesitation.

“It is impossible to win.”

“Is there no way to stop it?”

“The dam has burst. The water that has spilled cannot be put back.”

“Does that mean the people of Akitsu are doomed to perish?”

Kagura couldn’t lightly respond to the prince’s words.

“I know this, yet why can I do nothing?”

The prince’s voice, filled with frustration, reflected his anguish over his own powerlessness. Unlike the days before the Federation, the Keiken Dynasty now held no real political power. Despite realizing the impending national crisis, the prince was helpless, merely a figurehead without the ability to influence decisions, a fact that gnawed at him.

──You are a kind person.

──Too kind, and it isolates you…

The prince’s pacifist attitude had alienated him from the military.

While there was still a Federal Parliament, it had become mostly irrelevant. The real power now lay in the hands of the military. Threats and intimidation by young officers toward politicians had become commonplace, and in some cases, they even stormed private residences to carry out assassinations. The unchecked acts of the military, which would normally be prohibited, were justified under the guise of wartime. Politicians, powerless against the military’s overreach, continued to pass laws supporting the war effort, placing heavier taxes on the Federation’s citizens. Though the people suffered under poverty, the tightly controlled media broadcast the message that "St Vault and Urano are to blame for this hardship," redirecting the public’s resentment toward foreign nations.

From the prince’s vantage point, he could see the entire foolish structure of this war. That was why his frustration festered, and his words, though futile, spilled out.

“Speaking of fraternity seems meaningless. In this age, when everyone worships violence…”

He looked up at Suzaku, which was leisurely passing over the imperial capital, and his lamentation continued. Kagura, determined to support him in silence, listened to his words. From childhood, Daitoku Shinnou had trusted Kagura as his "sparring partner," someone he could show his true self to, unlike the other retainers.

After finishing his bitter reflections on the world and his place in it, the prince gestured to Kagura.

“I’ve complained enough. You’re the only one I can say these things to... Let’s begin.”

“As you wish.”

Kagura stood before the prince, crossed the pavilion, passed through the corridor, and entered a 20-square-meter wooden training hall.

In one corner of the room was a sword rack, holding bamboo swords, wooden swords, and real blades. Spears and naginata with sharpened edges were also displayed on the wall. With familiar ease, they both opened sliding doors to separate rooms, changed into their training attire, and returned to the hall with wooden swords.

They bowed to each other at the starting line, and both took up a proper seigan stance with their wooden swords.

Neither of them wore any protective gear on their heads or arms. They were simply clad in white tops and indigo hakama. A full-strength blow could easily cause injury, but they struck with their wooden swords without hesitation.

Kagura showed no mercy. Each strike she brought down was powerful enough to shatter the bones of an ordinary person.

The prince, too, cast off his earlier feeble demeanour from the pavilion. With sharp, practiced steps, he closed in on Kagura, delivering strikes filled with fierce intensity and battle-hardened skill. Though slim, his body was honed, his muscles strong, and his movements quick and powerful like a leopard. His swordsmanship, refined through years of training, was rough yet precise, reminiscent of ancient sword masters.

Between the two, all differences in rank and status had been stripped away.

In this moment, only the pure focus of the sword existed.

They had been honing their skills together since Kagura was seven and the prince was nine.

During the time they wielded their swords here, they were able to forget everything they were born into and exist simply as fellow swordsmen.

The Murasaki family had, for over a thousand years, been a hidden yet noble family that protected the Keiken Dynasty from the shadows.

As instructors in the royal family's swordsmanship, commanders of the Shinmei Corps, and “enforcers” for tasks that could not be made public, the Murasaki family had fulfilled many roles. Though unknown to the world, they were the only warrior clan officially sanctioned by the Keiken Dynasty to guard the palace as samurai. This was the family Kagura was born into.

About twelve years ago, at the request of Daitoku Shinnou, Kagura, who was close in age to the prince, was chosen as his training companion. The head of the Murasaki family and the elders had rigorously taught Kagura how to conduct herself in the palace so as not to offend the prince. However, the two quickly became close friends, disregarding their difference in status, and soon they were competing fiercely, driven by a shared desire to improve and defeat each other in swordsmanship.

Even now, when they were in the inner palace, the prince and Kagura were simply fellow swordsmen, rivals, and childhood friends.

“I yield,” Kagura declared, glancing up at the prince's sword, which had stopped just an inch from her forehead.

They both returned to the starting line, bowed to each other, and wiped the sweat from their faces with cloths.

“Has your sword dulled after your time in St Vault?” the prince asked, teasingly. Kagura could only respond with a wry smile.

“I struggled to find a decent training partner.”

“It seems that way. Next time, I’ll be your instructor.”

“I would be honoured.”

Kagura responded with a light-hearted joke, though she couldn't shake her frustration.

“One more round, please.”

“Very well. The last one wasn’t enough.”

The prince retorted sarcastically and took his position at the starting line again. Knowing each other’s stubborn competitiveness, they both knew from the beginning that a single match wouldn’t be enough.

For about an hour, they continued exchanging blows with unrelenting focus. In that time, the weight of the roles and statuses they had been forced to bear, along with the cruelty of the times, was forgotten—if only for a moment—as they wielded their swords against one another, friends bound by the grip of their weapons.