A Certain Pilot's Nocturne, Vol. 2

A Certain Pilot's Nocturne, by Koroku Inumura.

Illustrations by Haruyuki Morisawa.

Main Characters

Takeo Chijiwa.

An ace pilot of the Imperial Amatsukami Navy. A non-commissioned officer who rose through the "Yokaren" preparatory flight training. Special Duty Lieutenant.

Affiliated with the "Otonashi Air Corps" and "Unkaku Air Corps." Squadron leader. Twenty-three years old.

Shinichi Hasami.

An officer pilot of the Imperial Amatsukami Navy. Lieutenant. Serious and stubborn.

Affiliated with the "Otonashi Air Corps" and "Unkaku Air Corps." Squadron leader. Twenty-three years old.

Heisuke Sugino.

A young warrior boasting great strength and physique. Chijiwa's wingman.

Affiliated with the "Otonashi Air Corps" and "Unkaku Air Corps." Twenty years old.

.Taichi Matsuda.

A slender and intelligent man. Chijiwa's wingman.

Affiliated with the "Otonashi Air Corps" and "Unkaku Air Corps." Twenty years old.

Hideaki Kannonji.

Pilots an observation aircraft on the super-dreadnought flying battleship "Hida." Later assigned to the Otonashi Air Corps. Twenty-three years old.

First-generation Yokaren graduate and Chijiwa's peer.

Nagaomi Mido.

Pilots an observation aircraft on the super-dreadnought flying battleship "Settsu." Later assigned to the Otonashi Air Corps. Twenty-three years old.

First-generation Yokaren graduate and Chijiwa's peer.

Mizumori Misora.

A national singer of Amatsukami. Twenty-one years old.

Wilhelm Bardot.

Known as the "Fierce General," he is the commander-in-chief of the Levamme Navy. Fifty-seven years old.

Commands from the flagship aircraft carrier "Gran Ideal."

Illustrations

World State

Chapter 3: The Demon Dog

An iron mass exceeding 30,000 tons sprouted flames from the gaps in its torn steel Armor, plummeting toward the sea.

What spilled from the shattered hull were the crew members. Approximately eight hundred sailors aboard the ill-fated heavy cruiser airship, either tumbled out of the ship or were burned by flames inside, plunging headlong from an altitude of 4,000 meters toward the deep blue sea amidst cries of despair.

It was a cruiser airship of the Holy Levamme Empire's Navy (the Imperial Navy). Departing from Guardia Base as the flagship of a bomber formation for an air superiority mission, they were met with the same outcome as before—a sky of defeat where they couldn't lay a finger on the Imperial Amatsukami Navy (the Heavenly Empire Navy) base.

Even the Imperial Navy's latest fighter, the Aries III, couldn't match the Shinden. This bombing mission consisted of two heavy cruisers and thirty-five bombers escorted by forty Aries III fighters. Despite being a grand offensive formation, they were thoroughly scattered by about thirty Shinden that took off to intercept them. The delayed arrival of the Heavenly Empire's dive bombers and torpedo bombers led to devastating bomb hits.

Following the first ship, three oxygen air torpedoes struck the belly of the second heavy cruiser.

The July sky roared. A massive explosion was followed by the swaying of the 120-meter giant. Steel armour shattered, and flames burst upward, setting the sky ablaze. Without a moment's delay, relentless dive bombings were added one after another. Like the fighter squadron, the Heavenly Empire's bomber pilots were seasoned veterans, and their aim was unparalleled in accuracy, raining down incessantly on the heavy cruiser's vital spots. There was no way to withstand it. Soon, flashes streaked across the airspace, explosions erupted, and crimson flames stretched out like octopus legs in all directions. From beneath the flames, fine metal debris, fragments, and even parts of human bodies fell like hail. Not a single crew member survived; they had no choice but to share the fate of their ship. It was an utterly brutal end for a flying warship.

Breaking through the vast explosions left by the two heavy cruisers, the Shinden formation raised triumphant shouts. They were unstoppable. There was no ally more reliable for the Heavenly Empire, and no enemy more troublesome for the Imperial Navy. The sky where the Shinden flew was always painted in the colours of the Heavenly Empire.

The thirty-five enemy bombers, now without the escort of heavy cruiser airship and Aries III fighters, had no means left. Abandoning their mission to bomb Sechihara Base on Scion Island, they jettisoned their bombs into the sea and turned to flee at full speed.

However, the pilots of the Otonashi Air Corps did not let them escape. Competing with each other for the number of kills, they wanted to shoot down even one more plane than their comrades. Easily catching up with the slow-moving bombers, they swiftly cleared the skies using their honed combat skills.

It was such an overwhelming victory that the victors almost felt pity.

The pilots of the Otonashi Air Corps were all mighty warriors, each worth a thousand men, and they overwhelmingly surpassed the enemy in aircraft performance. In the frontline of the Central Sea War, at Sechihara Base where they had been stationed for about half a year, they had secured victories in almost all aerial battles.

—In aerial combat, I don't feel like we can lose.

After confirming that the last bomber beyond the windshield had turned into ripples on the sea surface, Special Duty Lieutenant Takeo Chijiwa pointed his aircraft toward Sechihara Airfield on Scion Island.

—In aerial combat... that is.

A faint melancholy crossed his mind. Regripping the control stick, he cruised through the clear blue sky devoid of enemies.

After their victory in the Battle of Victoria Sea, they had moved to Sechihara Base last December. The season was already summer. Beyond the horizon, large cumulonimbus clouds stretched leisurely, as if oblivious to the war. The silhouette of Scion Island, with its green fringing reefs, came into view over the crystal-clear sea where schools of fish were visible even from the aircraft. The first runway of Sechihara Airfield appeared at the edge of his vision, and Chijiwa safely landed on the red-soil runway from which he had repeatedly taken off and returned.

He proceeded to the aviation command post to report his number of kills to Commander Kazuki Shirase.

"I shot down three fighters and five carrier-based bombers."

In response to Chijiwa's report, Commander Shirase replied with a cheerful smile.

"Your number of kills has exceeded one hundred and fifty."

"Sir!"

"With today's total, your confirmed kills are one hundred and fifty-two. According to interrogations of prisoners, the Nexus Air Corps calls you the 'Demon Dog of Scion Island.' It seems their commander personally instructs them to avoid dogfights if they encounter the Demon Dog."

"It's an honour."

"Having an ace whose name even the enemy knows is invaluable. Instilling fear is part of our job. I look forward to your continued efforts."

"Yes, sir!"

"I'm truly sorry for not allowing you proper rest during these six months. The General Staff is reconsidering resupply methods, but crossing the Great Waterfall to assemble transport ships seems to be quite a challenge. It's not much, but please accept this as an apology."

Commander Shirase prompted his accompanying aviation officer, handing Chijiwa three large bottles of sake suspended by cords.

"I'm grateful."

Feeling the general's consideration, Chijiwa gratefully took the gifts in hand. Although he disliked superiors, he was fond of this kind-hearted commander who cared for his subordinates. Non-commissioned officers also secretly called Brigadier General Shirase "Oyaji" (Old Man) and admired him.

That night, a party was held in the spacious yard in front of the barracks. Despite it being night-time, there was no blackout enforced, and no one complained about openly lighting fires. Both the Imperial and Heavenly Empire navies seemed inept at night bombing, so surprise attacks often occurred at dawn or dusk.

The Otonashi Air Corps, operating from Sechihara Base on Scion Island, was an aviation unit of about three thousand personnel, comprising fighter squadrons, bomber squadrons, torpedo squadrons, maintenance units, and other ground units. The prestigious fighter squadron consisted of about a hundred carefully selected pilots, who engaged in constant aerial battles in the frontline San Helena Sea area, where the Imperial and Heavenly Empire navies clashed.

The Imperial Navy, stationed just three hundred kilometres away at Guardia Base in the Cantabria Islands, had also deployed the Nexus Air Corps—an elite unit composed of similarly selected pilots—to counter the Otonashi Air Corps. Since the Heavenly Empire Navy advanced to Scion Island about half a year ago, days without aerial battles had become rare, and both air corps continued to stain the San Helena Sea with the blood of their comrades. So far, the sorrowful flowers that bloomed were almost entirely coloured by the Imperial Navy's losses.

The sake Chijiwa had received acted as a catalyst, prompting other pilots to bring out their hidden rations of alcohol and snacks, turning the gathering into a sizable party. Friendly crew members invited familiar maintenance personnel and radio operators, and they shared cold drinks to dispel the warm summer night's air.

"Oh, what's this? You all seem to be having fun. Mind if I join?"

Lieutenant Shinichi Hasami, the squadron leader of the Otonashi Air Corps, joined the circle of non-commissioned officers with a bottle of shochu in hand. The pilots welcomed their superior warmly, diving into boasting about recent aerial battles. Officer aircrew were often disliked by non-commissioned officers for being unnecessarily arrogant, but Hasami was a well-liked superior. He was unpretentious, friendly, and generous. He would let nearby maintenance soldiers smoke officer-exclusive cigars, laughing heartily as they coughed.

Sharing the same fire, Chijiwa and his wingmen—Heisuke Sugino and Taichi Matsuda—were present. Matsuda asked Hasami:

"Is it true that the Empire has a new king?"

Due to the information gap between officers and non-commissioned officers, such informal gatherings were the only opportunities for the latter to obtain accurate big-picture information. Across the fire, Hasami nodded deeply.

"It's true. About ten days ago, Emperor Figaro passed away, and yesterday, the coronation ceremony was held. The new emperor of the Levamme Empire, Carlo Levamme, has ascended the throne."

"I've heard the new emperor is quite the fool."

"Indeed. To be precise... he's an unprecedented fool. For us, having a foolish king at their helm is advantageous. But if he's too incompetent, he might be overthrown. Ideally, he'd remain inept and stay in power indefinitely."

As Chijiwa listened from the sidelines, Sugino approached to pour him a drink.

"Lieutenant, splendid work today!"

With the brightest smile imaginable, he continued:

"Recently, my number of kills has increased significantly!"

Chijiwa downed the cold sake in one gulp.

"What's your count?"

"Twenty-two, sir!"

"Impressive," Chijiwa murmured deeply.

"It's all thanks to your guidance, Lieutenant!"

"I see. You've surpassed twenty kills. Time for you to graduate from being my wingman."

"Uh...?"

"You're now a veteran since the war began. You should consider leading your own wingmen."

"M-Me, a squad leader!? I wish to continue as your wingman, Lieutenant, dedicating myself entirely..."

"Silence."

"Yes, sir!"

Chijiwa turned to his other wingman sitting beside Sugino, Taichi Matsuda.

"Matsuda, what's your kill count?"

"Twenty-five, sir."

A composed voice replied. The hot-blooded Sugino and the calm Matsuda were affectionately known as "SugiMatsu" among the Otonashi Air Corps. When they first formed a squad, they were the youngest in the air corps at nineteen, but now they were twenty. The youthful innocence had faded from their expressions, replaced by the keen sharpness of warriors of the sky.

"I see. You've both come a long way..."

Chijiwa gazed at his two wingmen with deep emotion.

It's been a year and a half since the Central Sea War began. Pilots who had fought on the front lines since the beginning were all considered veterans. Sugino and Matsuda were now leading pilots of the air corps. In the vast three-dimensional space, moving freely at speeds over 500 kilometres per hour, accurately hitting and destroying enemy aircraft was a kind of miracle. Over the past year and a half, both had performed this miracle over twenty times. They were now respectable samurai of the skies.

They couldn't remain his wingmen forever.

It was time for them to become squad leaders and lead others into battle.

With this in mind, Chijiwa called out to his colleague across the fire.

"Hey, Hasami. Isn't it about time to assign subordinates to these two?"

He nodded toward his wingmen on either side, speaking magnanimously. Sugino and Matsuda were taken aback.

"But Lieutenant, that's..."

"We wish to continue as your wingmen..."

"Quiet. What do you think, Hasami?"

Chijiwa fixed his colleague with a sharp gaze. Hasami stroked his chin, staring into the void.

"Just between us... actually, the idea of promoting SugiMatsu to squad leaders has come up multiple times in the command post."

"Oh?"

Chijiwa hadn't heard of this. Uninterested in officer gossip, he was unaware of personnel matters.

"However, the achievements of your squad are outstanding. No one can replicate the formation manoeuvres of you three. It's a significant threat to the enemy. Your surpassing 150 kills is also thanks to SugiMatsu's support."

"Of course. My score isn't mine alone."

At Chijiwa's words, his wingmen's faces lit up. Being praised by their respected leader was reward enough for SugiMatsu.

"That's why the staff officers concluded there's no need to separate a squad achieving such results. Rather than forcing SugiMatsu to lead others, they'd prefer you continue fighting together. That's the consensus in the command post."

Sugino and Matsuda nodded enthusiastically, smiling.

"Yes! I still want to learn aerial combat techniques from you, Lieutenant!"

"Me too. I'm satisfied with my current role."

"Hmm..." Chijiwa grumbled, sipping his cold sake and gazing into the flames.

"But you can't remain wingmen forever..."

"It's no problem! I'll be your wingman until this war ends, Lieutenant!"

Sugino declared cheerfully, more enthusiastic than ever. Unsure how to respond, Chijiwa's face twisted in discomfort.

"...I acknowledge your value in combat, but spare me the overzealousness."

"Understood! I'll keep it cool!"

He clearly didn't get it. Chijiwa's face contorted further as he turned away from Sugino, focusing on the fire and continuing to drink.

The conversation continued. Each pilot was engrossed in sharing their war stories—how they shot down enemy planes, the predicaments they faced, and how they overcame them. The tales were filled with vigour, often underestimating the Imperial Navy. While underestimating the enemy should be cautioned against, after a year and a half of consecutive victories, it was perhaps understandable.

However, there was something that had been bothering him for some time.

—The enemy's numbers aren't decreasing.

No matter how many times they won or how many planes they shot down, the Imperial Navy kept assembling the same number of bombers to attack again. This had always been the case, but in the past month or two, it had become increasingly apparent. The seemingly endless reserves of the Nexus Air Corps were becoming evident.

Even if they shot down thirty planes today, the enemy would leverage their industrial power to deploy thirty-five new aircraft to the front lines. No matter how many aerial victories they achieved, by the next day, the enemy would replenish their losses and even bolster their forces—it was relentless.

Rumour had it that while the Heavenly Empire invested a thousand hours of training to develop a single pilot, the Imperial Navy sent theirs into battle after just three hundred hours. Their fighters were simplified for easier operation by less skilled pilots. Lacking the overwhelming aerial combat capabilities of the Shinden, their aircraft were heavily armoured, less prone to catching fire when hit, and designed to protect pilots' lives. Even mediocre pilots, shielded by thick armour and deployed en masse, could surround and shoot down a single skilled pilot.

The number of operational aircraft was decreasing—not for the losing Imperial Navy, but for the supposedly winning Heavenly Empire. Even in today's overwhelming victory, he had seen about three Shinden go down. While they had shot down over thirty enemy planes—a ten-to-one ratio—their own minor losses were hard to replace.

—We're losing more allies.

In the Heavenly Empire Navy, only exceptional talents who passed rigorous examinations could become pilots. Those who stood out among them were assigned to the Otonashi Air Corps, undoubtedly the world's strongest air corps at present. Yet, even these invincible warriors, each worth a thousand men, were falling daily, like missing teeth in a comb.

Their unbroken string of victories since the war's onset was beginning to wane.

Meanwhile, ominous rumblings echoed from beyond the western sea.

Like awakening a slumbering giant, the shadow of overwhelming enemy resources loomed over the battlefield.

Chijiwa could sense it.

—An armed horde of weak soldiers will eventually engulf a small group of elite swordsmen.

Levamme's strategy is a war of attrition that leverages their overwhelming resources. The Imperial Army desires a "decisive battle" where both sides concentrate their available forces to settle the score, but Levamme refuses to step into that ring. Instead, they draw the enemy deep into their own territory, gradually tormenting them and wearing down their strength over time, turning it into a war of attrition. The one likely wielding the baton is the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army, Nimitz, who just took over six months ago. And the Naval Commander appointed by Nimitz, the "Fierce General" Bardot, has yet to show any sign of activity. It was unsettling that Bardot, who scorned other races to the point of brutality and boasted fervent patriotism and aggressive combat spirit, had shown no movement in the six months since his appointment.

The day when the war will end is nowhere in sight.

The Otonashi Air Corps continues to fight on the front lines.

Days filled solely with aerial battles are both enjoyable and tinged with sorrow.

A communications soldier sitting around the fire began to speak, bit by bit, about the enemy communications he intercepted during today's aerial battle.

"What I picked up was radio communication between bombers. They kept calling a name—'Ted, Ted'—over and over. Perhaps their friend was shot down. Listening to that voice, I... felt indescribable."

"Sorry," the communications soldier said, taking a swig of his drink despondently.

Even the battle-hardened fighter pilots were moved when they heard such stories.

With each aerial battle, they began to realize that human beings were aboard the enemy aircraft they shot down.

Just like themselves, the enemy also had families, friends, and lovers. Each passing day, they began to wonder why they had to kill people they didn't even hate.

"Well... it's war. Can't be helped. Our comrades are being killed too. It's mutual," someone said.

Someone said that, and to shake off the gloom, they began to engage in silly talk. Everyone was suffering, burdened by contradictions, but no matter how much they agonized, an individual's thoughts wouldn't affect the big picture. It's easy to become depressed, but that only increases the sadness and doesn't mean much. In that case, isn't it wiser to at least try to stay cheerful? That was an unspoken agreement among the members.

Then, from a group gathered around a distant fire, a voice calling Chijiwa was heard.

It was a voice he wasn't used to hearing. Maybe new recruits. Lately, though just a few at a time, new pilots had been replenishing the Otonashi Air Corps.

"Takeo—where are you? We've come too; aren't you going to welcome us?"

It was a somewhat carefree, boyish voice. The other members exchanged puzzled glances.

Only Chijiwa stood up. And unusually, his stony expression softened.

"Kannonji! Mido! You guys came!"

Chijiwa ran toward the two men calling his name. One was a boyish-looking small man, and the other was a tall, slender youth nearly 190 centimetres tall, taller than Chijiwa. The surrounding pilots looked even more puzzled; it was rare to see Chijiwa show such open joy.

"Takeo, I hear you're already an ace, huh? I'm jealous," said the boyish one called Kannonji, looking up at Chijiwa with a friendly smile.

The grinning, boyish one called Kannonji looked up at Chijiwa familiarly. The other, the tall young man called Mido, looked down at Chijiwa and said,

"I'm only at three kills so far. I lack experience in aerial combat. I'd appreciate your guidance, Sensei Chijiwa," he said in a deep voice.

He said that in a subdued tone. Chijiwa was surprised.

"You shot down three planes on your first sortie? Impressive. Once you get the hang of it, you guys will quickly increase your kill count."

Chijiwa spoke warmly to the two men, clearly delighted. He then introduced the two new pilots to the members of the Otonashi Air Corps.

"First-generation Yokaren graduates, Hideaki Kannonji and Nagaomi Mido. The small one is Kannonji, and the big one is Mido. They're my peers; we always competed in grades."

Upon the introduction, all the non-commissioned officer pilots present hurriedly stood up and saluted.

Just being first-generation Yokaren graduates was enough to inspire awe among the non-commissioned officers. They had passed selection exams with a success rate of one in 150 and were considered the most capable among current pilots. While second, third, and fourth generations of Yokaren trainees were produced afterward, many were those who failed the first exam, and the first generation was considered the most outstanding in terms of talent. The fact that these two had competed with Chijiwa meant they were top-class even among the first generation. It's safe to assume their skills rivalled Chijiwa's.

Kannonji, grinning and lacking any hint of intensity, introduced himself in a mellow voice.

"Up until now, I was on the Hida, and Mido here was on the Settsu, flying observation planes. We're young with only four kills, so please take care of us."

His tone lacked any spirit, but upon hearing that they were observation plane pilots from the Hida and Settsu, everyone was taken aback.

The two super-dreadnought flying battleships "Hida" and "Settsu," which the Imperial Amatsukami proudly presented to the world.

An observation plane is a three-seater seaplane that approaches enemy fleets closely to observe the fall of friendly artillery shells and sends various necessary data for bombardment to the command post. To observe the fall of shots while avoiding being shot down by enemy escort fighters requires exceptional piloting skills. The fact that they were entrusted with the observation planes of the two great battleships, which could be called the face of the Imperial Navy, speaks volumes about their abilities. Furthermore...

"You flew observation planes on the Hida and Settsu... and have four kills!?" Sugino shouted excitedly.

A stir ran through those around them. Everyone shared the surprise that Chijiwa had felt earlier.

The Hida and Settsu had their maiden battle at the Battle of Victoria Sea six months ago and had experienced only one naval battle. During that time, these men, Kannonji and Mido, flew observation planes and shot down four and three enemy aircraft, respectively.

Observation planes are packed with heavy measuring instruments and communication equipment for accurate observation and have seaplane floats attached to both wings for storage on battleships. While they have a front machine gun as a token armament, they are not equipped to engage fighter aircraft. The weight of the aircraft becomes a handicap in aerial combat. It's like fighting enemy planes while hanging weights all over your body. Moreover, since their role is to get close to enemy territory and report, they were likely surrounded and attacked by Aries II fighters. Just surviving that is astounding, yet these men managed to shoot down enemy aircraft.

"During our Yokaren days, I was beaten by these guys in mock aerial battles several times. I can vouch for their skills," Chijiwa added, sealing the deal.

An even greater stir arose, and eyes filled with admiration were already directed at Kannonji and Mido.

"That's encouraging. It's like we have two more Chijiwas."

"Well then, let's have a drink first. Please come over here and tell us about the Hida and Settsu."

The members of the Otonashi Air Corps offered cups to Kannonji and Mido, happily welcoming the new reinforcements.

"I can't handle alcohol. Do you have any orange juice?" Kannonji said.

"I'll have strawberry milk," said Mido.

At the requests of the new assets, the air corps members were once again impressed.

"You can drink orange juice on the Hida?"

"And strawberry milk too?"

"Yes. After all, it's the Settsu Hotel," Mido replied proudly.

Eyes filled with envy were directed at Mido, who answered proudly. The Hida and Settsu were equipped with top-class onboard facilities, so they were called the "Hida Hotel" and "Settsu Hotel." Sighs of "It's really like a hotel...", "It must be nice to live in a hotel every day," and "I want to live in a hotel too" were heard. Many non-commissioned officers were poor country folk, so they longed for the very sound of the word "hotel."

"Unfortunately, we don't have such things here. You'll have to make do with water, sake, or coconut," Hasami said with a wry smile, responding to his new talented subordinates.

A quick-thinking non-commissioned officer slipped into the nearby palm grove, climbed up the trunks, and dropped two fresh coconuts. He split them with a large knife and offered them to the two.

"Wow, this is delicious," Kannonji said.

"Yes, not bad at all," Mido agreed.

Tasting the flavour of Scion Island, Kannonji and Mido became members of the Otonashi Air Corps.

The feast continued—

Around them, perhaps due to the alcohol taking effect, some began singing bizarre songs or performing foolish dances, while others headed out to the entertainment district on the outskirts of the base—a place where women from the homeland offered brief respite. After finishing reminiscing with his old friends, Chijiwa left the circle alone, wandering around the Sechihara base at night with a bottle of sake in one hand.

Without any particular destination, letting his feet and the intoxication guide him, he found himself at the beach before he knew it. A bright red full moon was out, tinting the sea surface a faint red.

The sound of waves biting at the sandy beach mingled with the warm sea breeze. The night air was filled with the scent of the sea. They said you could even see sea turtles nesting around here. If not for the war, this island would have been just a peaceful, pleasant southern island.

Now, however, this sea was stained with the remains of flesh, blood, and steel machines.

When the war had just begun, he had fought recklessly, that's all.

Aerial combat itself was a joy. Every time he shot down an enemy plane, he felt an indescribable exhilaration.

However, when that life continued for a year and a half, and he realized it would continue for much longer, what brushed against Chijiwa's heart was emptiness.

—Having shot down 152 planes.

—Means he had killed at least as many people.

Chijiwa stared intently at his own hands. Among the enemy planes he had shot down, there were many two-seater carrier-based bombers and three-seater torpedo bombers; he had also shot down about four large bombers carrying ten people each. He thought the number of people he had likely killed was close to two hundred.

—Am I not a mass murderer?

He painfully realized that fact now. The red moonlight fell upon his palms, making them look as if they were covered in blood.

No matter how much he agonized, it wasn't a problem with an answer. If he didn't kill the enemy, he would be killed. "It's war; can't be helped"—he could only accept it. It was foolish to suffer over such things at this point.

A fighter plane is a machine designed to shoot down enemy planes.

It's not the same as birds' wings. Steel wings fly in the sky to kill people. The fact that he, who was once just a worker in an underwater coal mine, could now make a living flying like this was thanks to war as a national enterprise. If there were no war, the country wouldn't need to spend large sums to train so many pilots.

—Flying to kill. Continuing to fly.

He thought that was fine. Agonizing over this was a weakness. Having shot down 150 planes and killed over 200 people, it was too late to repent. Shoot down as many enemy planes as he could, and someday he would be shot down too. As a way of life for a samurai of the sky, that was the natural form.

He looked up at the starry sky.

The eternal starlight turned the night into something ethereal.

The sound of the waves was gentle. As he walked alone on the beach, memories of past battles naturally welled up from his heart, flowed away, and new memories came.

He had experienced over a hundred aerial battles. He didn't remember each one, but there were many unforgettable fights. He had prepared for death more than once or twice.

However, there was only one battle that left the most intense impression.

The one and only defeat etched into this sky.

—Seagull.

It's been a year since then.

Even now, the only time he had lost an aerial battle was that one time.

Since then, despite experiencing over a hundred aerial battles, he continued to seek Seagull's aircraft silhouette in the sky.

—But he was nowhere to be found.

He hadn't heard any news of such a skilled pilot.

The Nexus Air Corps in the Cantabria Islands, which the Otonashi Air Corps was fighting, was said to be a group of Levamme's elite pilots. It was the Imperial Navy's plan to gather only the best to oppose the Imperial Amatsukami in skill. So it wouldn't be surprising if Seagull was in the Nexus Air Corps. Just as Chijiwa was called the "Demon Dog," the name "Seagull" should be resounding.

Yet, he never heard such a name.

—Did he die...?

—Or was he erased?

Over the past year, every time he thought of Seagull, that concern lingered.

Then Chijiwa shook his head side to side, shaking off that worst thought.

It's too early to despair; it's possible he's assigned to a completely different air corps, waiting for a transfer to the front lines. The battlefield of the Central Sea War is vast. Besides here, fierce aerial battles are unfolding in places like Est Miranda Island in the north. Seagull might be deployed in that area, or perhaps assigned to an aircraft carrier's air wing in a carrier task force. There's no reason he must be in the Nexus Air Corps.

Seagull is still flying somewhere. His wings are not broken. He had to believe that.

He stopped his feet on the sandy beach and gazed at the night horizon.

—I will shoot you down with my own hands.

He was the first opponent Chijiwa earnestly felt that way about.

In the night sky bathed in crimson moonlight, Seagull's salute emerged.

If he was a samurai, then Seagull was a Levamme knight.

He wanted to settle things honourably, each piloting a fighter.

He wanted to have a duel like in ancient battlefields—two pilots representing their respective armies facing each other head-on, without interference from anyone else, deciding who was stronger.

He knew such a thing was a pipe dream.

In modern warfare, where multiple combat mechanisms cantered around steel machines operate in coordination, individuals announcing themselves and duelling one-on-one couldn't happen. The moment you announce yourself, you'd be surrounded and riddled with bullets—that's the reality of the battlefield.

But still, even though he knew that.

—I want to duel Seagull one more time.

—Isn't it okay for such a breeze to blow through this damned battlefield?

He couldn't suppress such a childish wish.

As he drew Seagull's phantom into the red night sky, Chijiwa quietly relished that one defeat from the summer a year ago.

The Next Morning—

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!" "Run! Run!"

The same cries as yesterday enveloped Sechihara Airfield. The clanging of alarm bells disturbed the crisp morning air.

The pilots who had been eating breakfast outside the barracks all shouted "Whoa!" and dashed off simultaneously. Especially those who hadn't been able to participate in yesterday's interception battle ran to the hangars with a do-or-die determination, as if to say they would use up all their energy here.

Feeling a bit hungover, Takeo Chijiwa was the first to grab hold of the ladder to his Beagle aircraft, climbing up with an onigiri (rice ball) held in his mouth. He jumped into the cockpit, checked the instruments while swallowing the onigiri, and exchanged words with the maintenance crew.

"They sure come often."

"Seems the enemy has been getting serious lately."

"Any issues?"

"There are still some holes on the right side of the fuselage."

"Got it."

The maintenance crew jumped down and removed the ladder. Leaning out from the cockpit to confirm safety around him, he started up the hydrogen fuel cell stack, sent current to the DC motor, dispersed the maintenance crew, and roared the tail propeller into action, beginning his taxi. The outdoor speakers delivered the announcer's voice.

"Approximately eighty enemy aircraft, including large planes, forming a combined fighter-bomber group, advancing eastward sixty-five nautical miles west of the San Helena Sea!"

"Eighty planes?"

Chijiwa unintentionally spoke aloud. For an attack the day after yesterday's sortie, the enemy numbers were too great. Despite hitting them so hard yesterday, did they still have that many operational aircraft remaining?

—I'd thought they wouldn't be able to mount a proper attack for a while.

He took off, admiring the frequency and sheer number of enemy raids. Today, they had twenty-seven operational aircraft. They were vastly outnumbered, mainly because many planes had motor troubles after yesterday's air battle. Based on past experience, he intuitively felt that today would likely be a tough fight.

He climbed to an altitude of 6,700 meters and surveyed the airspace.

Cloud cover was five to six. Stratocumulus clouds, like children of cumulonimbus clouds, drifted here and there, making visibility not very good.

Before long, his wingmen, Heisuke Sugino and Taichi Matsuda, took positions on either side of Chijiwa. While circling above Sechihara Base and waiting for the enemy, two Shinden passed in front of them.

He knew who the pilots were by the way they wiggled their wings.

"Kannonji. Mido. They've come."

His heart raced. They had known each other since meeting about nine years ago at the Yokaren preparatory flight training. He couldn't wait to see how much they had honed their skills since then.

The morning sun, risen above the horizon, was already radiating a brass-coloured brilliance over the sea.

The sunlight reflected off the sea surface was heating the clouds floating here and there in the summer sky from below. Visibility was poor and dazzling. It was extremely difficult to visually spot incoming enemy aircraft.

Then—

"I'll lead. Follow me."

While signalling with hand signals, Kannonji passed in front of the formation.

"Already spotted them?"

The other pilots were half in doubt. They still couldn't fully trust the observation abilities of this newcomer.

In air combat, it's standard for the pilot who first spots the enemy to take the lead and guide the formation, but whether to follow or not is decided by the formation leader. Following the unreliable guidance of an inexperienced hotshot could lead to the annihilation of the formation or severe damage to the base. Today's formation leader decided not to follow Kannonji, and the majority of the Otonashi Air Corps members complied.

"Interesting. I'll follow you, Kannonji."

Chijiwa muttered and followed his comrade's tail. The formation leader's decision wasn't absolute. Someone with Chijiwa's record was allowed to act on his own judgment.

Those who followed Kannonji were Mido, Chijiwa, Matsuda, and Sugino—a total of five planes.

Kannonji looked back, saw Chijiwa and the others following, and grinned.

It was the same mischievous grin he'd had since their days in Yokaren.

Being led by Kannonji, the five planes climbed to an altitude of 7,000 meters, cruising while looking down at clusters of scattered clouds below.

The reflected sunlight from the sea was flickering between the clouds. The July clouds were all large and pure white, and their shapes changed rapidly, growing visibly by the minute. The current sky was a somewhat unusual air battlefield where it was extremely difficult for both friend and foe to keep watch.

Then, Chijiwa saw what Kannonji was seeing.

"Oh."

Far below, around 4,500 meters altitude.

About eight giant aircraft were flying in formation, heading toward Sechihara Base.

With a total length of 22 meters and a wingspan of 35 meters—it was the Levamme's latest large bomber, the Granada II, which they had started seeing recently. It had thick armour and excellent bulletproof performance; no matter how many 15mm armour-piercing rounds were fired into it, it wouldn't catch fire. Its huge body was evenly equipped with 15mm rotary gun turrets, creating a barrage like a hedgehog's quills, making it a formidable enemy that didn't allow fighters to approach.

Even such a troublesome opponent was being protected by fighter planes they had never seen before.

"Aries IV. So they've come."

Chijiwa licked the corner of his lips. It was the enemy described in materials sent from the General Staff Intelligence Bureau as the latest model fighter. According to the Intelligence Bureau, it was equipped with the latest DC motors and hydrogen fuel cell stacks, had equal air combat capabilities to the Shinden, and far surpassed the Shinden in defensive power.

From what he could see, there were eight Granada II bombers and fifteen Aries IV fighters. There were probably other enemy formations invading from other directions, but they could leave those to the Otonashi Air Corps members they left behind.

"You've found us a good enemy, Kannonji."

Chijiwa was thrilled. Shooting down opponents who didn't offer a challenge wasn't satisfying. Battling strong enemies was the joy of a samurai.

Because they were approaching the enemy from 7,000 meters altitude, they had an advantage of 3,000 meters. The enemy hadn't noticed them.

The first strike would decide the battle.

At the head, Kannonji suddenly reversed, exposing his underbelly to the zenith, and began a descent in an inverted dive.

The tip of Kannonji's nose was pointing directly at the course of the Granada II.

A shiver ran down Chijiwa's spine. He realized what Kannonji was attempting.

"Interesting."

Chijiwa, like Kannonji, reversed and entered an inverted dive. Mido followed suit. Sugino and Matsuda, not realizing the target of the three, nevertheless mimicked the same manoeuvre toward the enemy formation.

A steep dive that felt like all the air was sucked out of his stomach.

In front of Chijiwa's eyes, the sea approached rapidly. Breaking through several scattered clouds, they dived straight from above toward the nose of the Granada II.

Kannonji was ahead on his left, Mido on his right rear.

The three Shinden formed a slightly diagonal formation, swooping down like hawks aiming for the course of the large bombers.

The giant silhouettes of the aircraft filled the space beyond the windshield.

The cluster of anti-aircraft guns mounted on the upper surfaces of the planes noticed the three Shinden swooping down on them.

In an instant, concentrated anti-aircraft fire from the eight-plane formation erupted like volcanic flames.

A turbid flow of burning lava. Because the enemy was in a dense formation, the density of anti-aircraft fire was extremely high.

However, the three Shinden broke through the midst of the flames.

When the distance between them was less than 100 meters, Kannonji's 30mm machine guns roared first.

The target was near the nose of the Granada II—the cockpit.

From far above, aiming precisely at a single point on the nose, diving steeply and shooting through the cockpit in a passing attack—a top-class aerial combat technique.

The cockpit, hit by 30mm explosive shells, shattered explosively. Kannonji pierced through the flames and continued descending toward the sea.

Immediately afterward, Chijiwa's machine gun bullets were sent into the cockpit of the Granada II that had been flying beside it. Furthermore, the Granada II next to that one received an unforgiving baptism of machine gun fire from Mido.

The three Granada II at the front of the formation all swayed together.

Then, as if their strings had been cut, the huge aircraft spiralled down unsteadily. No matter how heavily armed or how excellent their bulletproof performance was, there was nothing they could do if their heads were blown off. The "Sky Fortresses" over 20 meters in length slid diagonally through the sky like birds and crashed into the sea, turning into thick water columns.

"!?'

"...Amazing...!!"

Sugino and Matsuda, who had been following behind, were speechless. They had never heard of three planes simultaneously demonstrating top-class aerial combat techniques. They realized that the three first-generation pilots they were following were pilots who had reached a godlike level.

"Not rusty at all."

As Chijiwa gazed at the three water blossoms blooming far below, he looked at his comrades' wings with a feeling of reassurance.

"No, they've improved their skills."

He had been a bit worried about their inexperience in switching from observation planes to fighters, but it was unfounded. Carrier air wings had fewer opportunities for air combat, but their training was extremely intense. They must have never neglected mock aerial combat between the two of them; it was a splendid kill as if they had been traversing the aerial battlefields for years.

But they couldn't let their guard down.

In this airspace, the enemy's numbers overwhelmingly surpassed theirs.

The fifteen silver wings of the escorting Aries IV flipped over. Heading toward the five Shinden descending in a hit-and-run attack, they dived straight down.

Descending, Chijiwa looked back over his shoulder. The silhouettes of the Aries IV were closing in, as if pouring down from the deep blue summer sky.

—Those aircraft are strong in steep dives.

Just by looking at the outlines of the enemy planes, Chijiwa instantly grasped that. The large cowling housed a new model motor that far surpassed their own DC motor "Tatae" in performance. With greater engine horsepower, they could enhance armaments and have thicker armour. Thicker armour made them strong in steep dives. The Shinden, which sacrificed defensive performance for manoeuvrability, must not fight on the same terms as the Aries IV.

"In that case..."

While there was still some distance from the enemy, Chijiwa began to pull up his aircraft. If the distance had been closer, exposing the upper surface of the aircraft to the enemy would have made him an easy target for shooting. While there was a safe distance, he transitioned to level flight, flying low at an altitude of 1,000 meters, gradually increasing his speed. The other four Shinden dispersed on their own judgments, aiming to spread out the numerically superior enemy.

While circling, Chijiwa glared upward.

Four Aries IV were diving down. A textbook meat-approach attack. There was no need to engage them directly. Confirming that his current altitude was 1,000 meters, he instantly formulated a tactic.

The enemy planes approached.

Judging the point where the momentum of their steep dive would make correcting their aim difficult, Chijiwa inverted his aircraft and entered a gentle barrel roll while descending.

20mm machine gun fire was simultaneously released from the wings of the four planes.

Bundles of thick tracer bullets passed through the centre of his roll. It's difficult to shower machine gun fire on a target that's rolling gently while approaching.

Furthermore, the enemy planes, with the momentum of their steep dive, broke through the centre of the large circle that Chijiwa was drawing, overshooting their prey and descending toward the sea. Aiming at the tails of those four planes, this time it was his turn to pursue them. By skilfully adjusting speed—a first-class technique of a seasoned pilot—the roles of attacker and defender had reversed in just an instant.

Forced to fire at an altitude of 1,000 meters, the enemy had no choice but to pull up, or they would crash into the sea if they continued descending.

Reluctantly, the enemy planes pulled back on their control sticks at an altitude of 500 meters, attempting to transition to level flight. In doing so, they exposed the upper surfaces of their aircraft to Chijiwa, who was descending upon them—a gesture that seemed to say, "Do as you please."

Recently, when shooting down enemy planes, Chijiwa had made it a habit to apologize to the gods.

"Namusan."

Then, without mercy, he fired 30mm machine gun rounds at the large targets in a salvo. At that time, he didn't forget to shake his nose left and right, spreading the "cannon shells"—the deadly explosive rounds—as widely as possible.

The 30mm machine gun rounds, which could even penetrate the armour of large bombers, were "shells" filled with gunpowder that exploded inside the aircraft after penetrating the armour. Even a single hit would be a fatal blow.

In an instant, three Aries IV exploded.

Breaking through the midst of the explosions, the Demon Dog's tail propeller roared even louder.

One Aries IV was desperately fleeing. It was moving at a speed he had never seen before.

—Fast!

Even Chijiwa was impressed by its speed in fleeing. He could feel the performance difference of the DC motors. He considered whether he should consume more power to chase it, but since the escort had fled, he could now focus on targeting the large bombers.

He glared upward. Five Granada II were still heading toward Sechihara Base.

There was still no support from the Otonashi Air Corps. According to reports, there were over eighty enemy planes, so they probably had several formations attacking Sechihara Base from different directions.

—We five have no choice but to handle this ourselves.

They were overwhelmingly outnumbered. Even in aircraft performance, the Shinden no longer had the advantage. Both the Aries IV and the Granada II were not opponents they could easily handle as before. If they let their guard down, they would be surrounded and shot down under concentrated fire.

—Our only weapons are our fighting spirit and piloting skills.

Due to differences in national power, it had been foreseen that the day would come when the Shinden's superiority would be lost. It had been accepted since before the war that the final remaining strength of Amatsukami would be only the mental and technical prowess honed through rigorous training.

—The war is just getting started.

Chijiwa licked the corner of his mouth.

His fighting spirit welled up so strongly that he trembled.

—We don't fight to live...

—We live to fight.

Embracing only that pride in his heart, he opened the throttle.

The Shinden roared. The Demon Dog howled.

He headed straight for the underside of the Granada II flying far above.

The five large bombers in close formation had gun turrets mounted on their undersides as well.

The rain of fire pouring down was truly like a thunderstorm. Climbing, Chijiwa sharply tilted the control stick to evade the first salvo, then positioned himself behind and above the enemy formation, fixing the gaze of a raptor near their tail sections, increasing his speed.

A barrage like a hedgehog's quills enveloped the airspace. Weaving through the fierce fire, the Demon Dog pursued its prey. In an instant, he closed in to an unavoidable distance.

"Namusan."

His 30mm machine gun's quick draw shattered the tail of the enemy aircraft.

The giant body, having lost control, tilted heavily and descended without recovering its posture. Without even watching the crew bail out with parachutes from the aircraft, Chijiwa turned his eyes to the next prey.

The enemy large bomber formation realized that they were being pursued by the notorious "Demon Dog of Scion Island."

One of them suddenly turned its nose, stopped firing anti-aircraft guns, opened the bomb bay under the fuselage, and began dumping the bombs it had been carrying into the empty sea.

This was probably a signal of "surrender." It might be a unique Levamme signal not found in Amatsukami.

Chijiwa couldn't help but snort in derision. Shooting down such an enemy would feel like cutting down an unarmed opponent—just unpleasant.

He passed directly in front of the cockpit of the large bomber dumping its bombs, showing off the illustration of the beagle, and sent a sneering smile visible to the crew.

"Bring me Seagull."

He threw words that couldn't possibly be heard at the enemy pilot.

As the name of the Demon Dog thundered among the enemy, they would surely be plotting to restore their honour. It would be great if they sent their best pilot to boldly shoot down the detestable Demon Dog. With such expectations, Chijiwa thoroughly mocked the enemy's cowardice, ridiculed their flight, and then looked at the remaining three large bombers.

Like hounds chasing a herd of buffalo, the Shinden were barking at the Granada II.

Sugino and Matsuda were jointly attacking one plane, while Kannonji and Mido were each pursuing the other two solo. Dodging the anti-aircraft fire pouring down from all directions, they closed in and poured 30mm machine gun fire into the enemy's vital spots. Sugino and Matsuda had faced large bombers several times before and should have grasped the essentials, but he could see they were still struggling. The Granada II's improved defensive capabilities were remarkable; even when they concentrated their attacks on spots that had always spewed fire before, they didn't easily catch fire, and continued flying proudly toward Sechihara Base.

Then, suddenly, the right wing of the Granada II beside them broke off.

A large bomber can't possibly fly with one wing; it spun around and fell. Looking down triumphantly was Mido's plane. He had concentrated 30mm machine gun fire on the base of the right wing and shot it down.

—An astounding skill.

Chijiwa was once again impressed by his comrade's prowess.

To shoot at the base of the right wing, you had to attack from behind and above. And that spot was where the Granada II's anti-aircraft fire was the heaviest. Evading that fierce fire and concentrating 30mm machine gun rounds on a tiny weak point was a skill worthy of admiration.

—He was always good at shooting.

The ability to hit a moving object traveling at high speed in three-dimensional space, while also moving at high speed, calculating wind direction, wind force, and bullet drop due to gravity.

When it came to shooting, even Chijiwa couldn't match Mido. The fact that he had been shooting down enemy planes while flying observation aircraft was probably due to his outstanding computational abilities and dynamic vision.

The bomber chased by Kannonji, unable to bear it any longer, opened its bomb bay and dumped all the bombs it was supposed to drop on Sechihara Base into the sea, stopped all anti-aircraft fire, raised its gun barrels toward the zenith, and began to wave its long wings exceeding 30 meters in span up and down. On the ground, this would correspond to raising a white flag, but fundamentally, there is no "I give up" in aerial combat. There is no way to raise a white flag here. The enemy plane was sending a message: "We've given up today's bombing and are returning home, so please let us go," but tomorrow they would come raiding again with their bellies full of bombs.

Whether to let this enemy live or kill them was up to Kannonji's discretion.

Kannonji chose to riddle the enemy with holes.

He switched his ammunition from 30mm explosive rounds to 15mm armour-piercing rounds, and from behind and above the enemy plane, he showered it with armour-piercing bullets in a mocking manner. The enemy knew this was a humiliating treatment but silently endured the rain and fled. Kannonji did not pursue further, letting it go, and turned his nose toward the last plane being chased around by Sugino and Matsuda.

Chijiwa also moved to assist his wingmen. Perhaps losing their will to fight after their escort had fled early and their remaining four comrades were gone, the last Granada II also turned its nose around and began dumping its bombs. However, it continued to fire anti-aircraft guns.

—Let's take this one down.

It's not good to let too many enemies escape. Deciding this, Chijiwa positioned himself behind and above the enemy to draw their anti-aircraft fire. He wanted Sugino and Matsuda to gain experience in shooting down large bombers.

Shaking his nose back and forth, he followed the Granada II at a distance of about 500 meters. The enemy was desperately firing to shake off the Demon Dog, but at such a distance, no matter how thick the barrage, it was unlikely to hit. Like a martial artist deftly dodging the 15mm rounds, he silently signalled to his wingmen, "Hurry up and shoot it down."

Sugino and Matsuda repeatedly launched attack runs on the Granada II. They passed overhead multiple times, firing their 30mm machine guns, but just shooting blindly didn't make it catch fire easily. Unless they steadied themselves, closed in, and were prepared to deliver a decisive blow to a vital spot, a large bomber wouldn't go down. The first-generation pilots like Chijiwa, who could take them down in almost a single hit, were the exceptions. Knowing that Chijiwa was watching, the two wingmen were determined to shoot it down somehow, but instead found themselves hastily evading anti-aircraft fire. It was nerve-wracking to watch.

Suddenly, the massive body of the Granada II shook violently. Flames erupted from its belly.

Perhaps having lost patience, Mido had sliced through the enemy's underside by attacking from below.

Riding the momentum, he climbed above the Granada II, suddenly reversed, and while descending, delivered a second strike to the wing root. From the point of impact, flames erupted again.

Sugino and Matsuda appeared stunned. They took pride in having fought across aerial battlefields since the war began, so this must have been quite frustrating. Perhaps resolved not to let their prey be stolen, they abandoned their earlier hesitant shooting and began closing in through the anti-aircraft fire.

Chijiwa also approached from behind and above, drawing the enemy's fire toward himself. As the two wingmen edged closer from both sides of the prey, they brought their aircraft so close it seemed they might collide, and from an inescapable position, swung their swords—the 30mm machine guns.

Both wings of the Granada II broke off.

The giant wings, each spanning over 30 meters, pointed straight up to the zenith. Breaking through the clouds, they danced in the wind like leaves. Below them, the worm-like fuselage fell helplessly. Crew members were expelled, and parachutes blossomed in the sky.

"Fuu," Chijiwa exhaled through his nose.

Watching his wingmen fight was much more nerve-wracking than fighting himself. While he praised them internally for shooting it down, numerous points that needed correction came to mind.

Sugino and Matsuda, unable to hide their excitement at having shot down a formidable enemy, flanked Chijiwa with proud expressions. Sending a wry smile to his wingmen through the windshield, Chijiwa turned his nose toward Sechihara Base.

They had won the battle in this airspace, but somewhere else, enemy formations that had invaded from different directions were probably still engaged in combat. Climbing to 4,000 meters and cruising while vigilantly scanning the sky, before long, the silhouette of Scion Island came into view.

"Mm..."

Something unfamiliar was mixed into the familiar scenery.

Scion Island, a vivid green island with a skirt-like coral reef, floating alone on the deep ultramarine sea.

From that beautiful island, praised as the Emerald of the Western Sea, several plumes of black smoke were rising.

"Did they allow a bombing?"

In the past six months, the Otonashi Air Corps hadn't allowed a proper bombing to take place. That's because the fighter squadron of top-class pilots had repelled all attacks before they could reach the island. But it seemed that meticulous record had finally crumbled today. The fighter squadrons they had left behind couldn't fully prevent the enemy's invasion.

They might still be fighting somewhere. Chijiwa climbed higher and scanned the surrounding airspace, but the air battle had already ended; neither friend nor foe was flying in the summer sky.

The five planes all entered descending turns and aligned with the landing course to Sechihara Airfield. Ahead, the familiar red dirt runway approached rapidly. However, something unfamiliar soon came into view.

"Uh..."

Red cones were placed here and there on the runway. These marked areas where the surface was dented. It seemed they had been hit by quite a few bombs. If the wheels got caught in a dent, it could cause a porpoise (bouncing), which could lead to the pilot's death if mishandled.

Chijiwa concentrated more than usual, aiming for a part of the runway with fewer markers, and somehow landed. The following planes traced Chijiwa's descent path and returned one after another.

Maintenance crews rushed over and placed ladders on the cockpits. While looking around at the state of the airfield, Chijiwa stepped onto the ground.

One of the hangars beside the runway was on fire. It seemed to have taken a direct bomb hit, and the flames were intense. Ground crew were fighting the fire, but the valuable aircraft being repaired inside were probably no longer usable.

"They really got us," a familiar maintenance crewman said, his face twisted in frustration.

"The enemy numbers were overwhelming. Our allies fought hard, but they invaded from areas we couldn't cover..."

"These days happen," Chijiwa consoled him, and the five of them headed to the aviation command centre. They reported today's results to Commander Shirase, the aviation staff officer, and the flight squadron leader.

"You shot down six Granadas with just five people? If true, that's unprecedented," the aviation staff officer said with disbelief.

Sugino responded:

"I believe it's proof that Lieutenant Chijiwa's name is resonating even among the enemy! We saw many enemy planes flee just at the sight of the Beagle!!"

Chijiwa grimaced at Sugino, who was as proud as could be. Beside him, Kannonji and Mido supplemented Sugino's words.

"We didn't sense much fighting spirit in the escort fighters. Indeed, some fled the moment we encountered them."

"Both the fighters and bombers have excellent aircraft. But it seemed the enemy pilots were somewhat reluctant to engage in dogfights."

"Yes," Commander Shirase nodded happily.

"The enemy doesn't want to die in a place like this. While they mock us as monkeys, they also don't want to die fighting monkeys. Such enemies won't push themselves when they're losing. But once they start winning, they'll regain momentum and attack as if enjoying a hunt. Don't become overconfident."

The aviation staff officer continued, conveying the general situation in other airspaces.

"Today's enemy forces split into three groups, invading from three directions with time differences. According to reports, the formation you encountered seems to have been the main force; you did well to repel them. However, we couldn't fully stop the other two formations and suffered enemy bombing of the airfield facilities for about seven minutes. Everyone fought well, but with that many numbers assembled, it's hard to cover everything. Combining the reports, it seems we shot down seven enemy heavy bombers and sixteen Aries IV fighters. We lost five Shinden, but we won. The enemy won't be able to come again for a while after taking such losses. In the meantime, rest well and recharge your spirits."

"...Yes, sir," they responded and left the command centre together.

They exchanged glances.

"...We lost five of our planes?"

That was more serious. In other words, five familiar fighter pilots had been shot down. Since it was an interception battle, their lives should be spared if they parachuted down. They prayed that as many as possible were safe.

Next to the command centre was the pilots' ready room.

It's where twenty to thirty fighter pilots are always on standby so they can take off immediately when there's an enemy attack. The pilots who had just returned and the standby personnel were mingling, talking loudly about something. Some were even crying openly without caring about their surroundings.

"Tsukada, Tsukadaaa!" "What, Tsuchiya was taken down too!?"

The members were shocked. The names being mentioned were ones Chijiwa knew. Skilled pilots who had fought together since the days at the Trebas Atoll.

He asked a young pilot who was looking down, holding back tears.

"...Tsukada and Tsuchiya died?"

The young man's reddened eyes looked up at Chijiwa. He hastily saluted and then answered the question.

"Yes... Both fought bravely, surrounded by superior enemy numbers, but they couldn't overcome them..."

"...I see. That's unfortunate."

It was about a year since Chijiwa had become a member of the Otonashi Air Corps. He now matched the faces and names of all the fighter squadron members, and as they overcame dozens of aerial battles together, their bonds strengthened, and they felt like a family. Losing members of that family was saddening no matter how many times it happened.

Sugino spoke with the waiting pilots and told them the names of the other three who had died.

"I see..."

Knowing the names of the five dead, Chijiwa felt pain in his heart. The reality that the five who had been energetically eating breakfast that morning were now sinking into the San Helena Sea by evening weighed heavily.

But... he reconsidered.

—To sink into such sentimentality is what weak people do.

Chijiwa quietly spoke to himself.

—We are killing the enemy too. The enemy kills us.

So there's no point in grieving. Even if we blame the nation or the times and scream and cry, it won't bring the dead back. We fight on behalf of our departed friends. In this situation, that's all a warrior can do.

That night, as usual on days when they won aerial battles, the air corps members brought their own drinks to the open space in front of the barracks for a banquet. To dispel the sadness of losing five comrades, they raised their voices, bragged about their kills, showcased their combat skills, and although there was a somewhat desperate atmosphere, it was lively for the time being.

"Kannonji-san, Mido-san, your performance was spectacular! I'm filled with admiration and emotion!" Sugino, excited and red-faced, leaned close to the new reinforcements. The pilots who hadn't been able to participate in today's air battle also seemed eager to know about Kannonji and Mido's skills and naturally gathered around the two.

"No, no, not at all. We're not used to this yet. Thanks to Takeo, we managed somehow," Kannonji said with a grin. Beside him, Mido nodded deeply.

"We underestimated the enemy. Their skills and aircraft performance are on par with ours. If we take them lightly, we'll get hurt."

They sincerely praised the enemy without boasting about their own skills. But what everyone wanted to hear were stories of aerial combat prowess. Eager gazes turned to Sugino.

Puffing out his chest proudly as if it were his own achievement, Sugino said:

"Both of them displayed astonishing skills! When they lined up with Lieutenant Chijiwa and shot through the Granada's head in one hit, I was blown away!!"

He then vividly recounted what he had seen, perhaps exaggerating a bit. As he passionately described the aerial manoeuvres, using his hands to mimic aircraft, everyone began to look at the newcomers with respect.

"Um, Sugino-kun, you're exaggerating a bit," Kannonji said.

"Indeed. He's embellishing the story," Mido agreed modestly.

But Sugino, getting even more carried away, said:

"Both of them have aerial combat skills that rival the Lieutenant's! Perhaps they've even mastered the Left Roll!"

He eagerly inquired. The "Left Roll," Chijiwa's secret technique, was a combat manoeuvre that Sugino admired.

At that question, Kannonji gazed into the distance.

"Ah... that. That's impossible for me. I've tried it a few times in training, but nine times out of ten, I stall. That's impossible for normal people."

Mido nodded gravely.

"Same here. It's strange that someone can reproduce it multiple times. Takeo is abnormal for being able to use such a manoeuvre in actual combat."

With that said, everyone's eyes now turned to Chijiwa, who was drinking near the fire.

"...I don't recommend using it. I prefer not to if possible," Chijiwa said, trying to end the conversation, but Sugino seized the opportunity to press further.

"Lieutenant, could you please explain why that technique is so difficult? If we could all use the Left Roll, we might win aerial battles more easily. I want to understand how it works!"

The pilots gathered around the fire looked expectantly at Chijiwa. In place of the reluctant Chijiwa, Kannonji briefly explained the technique.

"In short, when you're being chased by the enemy, you use the apex of a diagonal loop to slip into their blind spot. A normal roll allows you to circle tighter than the enemy, and if you keep circling two or three times, you can get behind them. But Takeo's roll points the nose of his plane at the enemy's flank in one move. I don't know how he does it."

Mido added:

"Even when we say 'apex of a diagonal loop,' each pilot has a different sense of timing. By using the maximum rudder just before stalling, you can turn in the smallest radius, but judging that point is difficult. Moreover, that point is where you can turn fastest before stalling. If you raise the nose even slightly from this state, you'll stall and fall. At the same time, the load on the aircraft exceeds structural limits, risking mid-air disintegration. It's not a technique that can be mastered by theory alone. Only pilots chosen through blood and sweat can use it."

The pilots knew the theory, but hearing it articulated made them realize its awesomeness.

How did Chijiwa master the Left Roll?

They wanted to know the answer to that question.

Under pressure from those around him, Chijiwa's face twisted with annoyance. Even Kannonji and Mido were asking for an explanation, so he reluctantly shared his thoughts.

"After performing the roll... the turn begins to descend. The key is how long you can delay this descent... It's not about theory. The body tells you. You read everything—the adjustments of the three control surfaces, electrical current control, airspeed, gravity, surrounding wind—and while flowing sideways through space, you point the nose at the enemy's flank."

He gulped down his drink and continued.

"The manoeuvre is performed where the two control limits of stalling and structural strength are simultaneously in effect. If you make even a slight mistake in delicate control, it leads to a spin or mid-air disintegration. If there's any trick, it's that after pressing the right foot bar slightly, you press the left one more strongly... but it's not a technique that can be explained verbally. Especially you, Sugino—it's absolutely impossible for you."

Everyone laughed at his final remark. Sugino, his face turning bright red, retorted.

"Th-that may be impossible for me now, but if I keep honing my skills, someday I'll master it too! I want to use it skilfully and look cool!"

Even though he was slurring his words due to the alcohol, his enthusiasm remained the same. Chijiwa frowned with disdain.

"It's not a technique you use because you want to. You use it because you have to."

He spat out the same thing as before. As Sugino tried to press further, Matsuda grabbed him in a full nelson to stop him.

"Sugino, your drinking habits are getting worse lately."

"Let go, Matsuda! Don't act all high and mighty just because the Lieutenant favours you!"

"Idiot, I'm not favoured. You're just disliked..."

"What did you just say!?"

"Just be quiet. Let's go over there and cool your head..."

"Lieutenant! You don't dislike me, do you!?"

Being dragged away by Matsuda and distanced from everyone, Sugino shouted. Holding a cup in one hand, Chijiwa didn't respond, keeping his expressionless face turned toward the fire.

"Lieutenant, please say something! If you don't, I'll be too lonely! Lieutenaaaant..."

After Sugino's voice faded and was swallowed by the night, Chijiwa finally muttered.

"Fool."

Then a new figure joined the fire.

"Oh, another party tonight? Such high spirits—wonderful. Let me join in."

It was Hasami, carrying a bottle of shochu.

When Hasami joined the gathering, people crowded around him to hear valuable information known only to the higher-ups.

"Looks like there's going to be an air battle around Est Miranda Island."

Illuminated by the orange flames, Hasami told his subordinates with a heavier expression than usual.

"The struggle over there has been going on for some time, but it seems it's more important to the enemy than we thought. Our army units that landed on Est Miranda are being attacked by enemy carrier task forces and are requesting support from the General Staff."

At the mention of carrier task forces, the members of the Otonashi Air Corps looked uneasy. They thought they had thoroughly crushed them in the Battle of Victoria Sea six months ago, but now they were attacking again with new carriers?

"The commander is Wilhelm Bardot, a general who absolutely hates us. His personality is almost indistinguishable from a criminal or a murderer, but annoyingly, he's strong in warfare. If we're up against Bardot's carrier task force, our own Yagami Carrier Task Force will go out. Another decisive battle between carriers will occur."

"Oh!" Light cheers rose. Memories of being intoxicated by the sweet taste of victory off the coast of this island six months ago flashed through everyone's minds.

"A decisive battle is just what we want. If we can take down Bardot, perhaps the enemy will give up on continuing the war."

Such voices rose from the non-commissioned officers. For the Imperial Navy, a "decisive battle," where both sides concentrate their available forces to settle the score, was more desirable than a "war of attrition" like the slow strangulation they were experiencing on Scion Island. Furthermore, winning a decisive battle was the only way for the Imperial Navy to end this war.

"Will we be able to participate in the decisive battle?"

"Right now, every carrier air wing is lacking experienced pilots. They'll want members of the Otonashi Air Corps so badly they'd do anything. It's quite possible we'll be transferred in preparation for the coming decisive battle."

Once again, pleased voices rose here and there. Everyone shared the desire to participate in a great decisive battle that would go down in history.

"We can win, right? The crew's training level is different. The Aries IV are tough, but the Shinden haven't lost yet."

"Indeed. The Yagami Carrier Task Force is full of seasoned veterans who have experienced many naval battles. Most of the crew on Bardot's fleet, which consists of many newly built ships, are virtually on their first campaign. If we face them directly, we'll win as expected. As long as the bigwigs don't do anything foolish..."

Hasami's words trailed off with a hint of unease. In the Battle of Victoria Sea, Commander Yagami's order to change equipment was a dangerous one that could have, if mishandled, resulted in the sinking of six regular carriers. Hopefully, there wouldn't be such reckless decisions relying on the training level of the crew and mechanics.

"Well, there's no point in us getting restless here. We'll just have to do our best on our end. Lately, Levamme seems to be making national efforts to increase production of aircraft and naval vessels. Today's air battle was like that—they plan to overwhelm us with sheer numbers. We'll have tough battles ahead, but by serving as a bulwark against the enemy's numerical superiority, the Otonashi Air Corps can help bring the war to an end. Let's believe that."

"Yes, sir!"

Everyone sensed that the coming phase of the war wouldn't be easy. More would likely fall in the future. But they didn't sink into grief or despair. Each embraced the pride of being a warrior of the sky, resolutely prepared to face the hardships of tomorrow.

The next day—

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!" "Run! Run!"

The familiar clanging of alarm bells shattered the morning silence.

"...What?"

Chijiwa slowly rose from his bed in the barracks, his sleepy eyes turning toward the glass window.

6 a.m. Clear summer morning light was pouring down on Sechihara Base. From the distant runway, the sound of DC motors running reached his ears. The pilots on duty in the ready room were about to take off for interception.

"...Damn it. How many planes?"

As he put on his flight suit, he waited for the base broadcast. This was the third consecutive day of bombing. Soon, the speaker in the barracks announced the details of the enemy.

"Approximately ninety enemy aircraft, including large planes, forming a combined fighter-bomber group, advancing eastward fifty nautical miles northwest over the San Helena Sea!"

"Ninety planes!?"

He couldn't believe his ears.

Despite shooting down so many yesterday, the enemy numbers had increased today. Unable to replenish yesterday's losses of five planes, they had to face the enemy while still carrying those losses.

At this rate... no matter how many aerial battles they won, it was meaningless!

—What he had feared was beginning.

The difference in industrial power he had always worried about. Levamme's national power, ten times that of Amatsukami.

It had been foreseen that this would eventually manifest clearly on the battlefield. No matter how many they shot down, the enemy would send in more reinforcements and eventually overwhelm them—a development predicted before the war began. It had finally started.

—This is where the real ordeal begins.

Chijiwa looked up at the sky. About twenty Shinden were taking off for interception. Since Chijiwa and his group were scheduled to be on standby from the afternoon today, they had no choice but to quietly enter the air-raid shelter.

"...Please. Come back alive."

Watching the friendly fighter squadron ascend into the summer sky, all Chijiwa could do was pray.

He didn't like air-raid shelters.

In the darkness, all he could do was sit still, holding his breath, feeling the distant vibrations transmitted through the ground.

It seemed Sechihara Base was being heavily bombed. The heavy impact sounds echoed incessantly, and each time, bits of soil trickled down from overhead. If a direct hit landed right above the shelter, there was a risk of collapse. While he didn't mind dying in the sky, he didn't want to be buried alive in a place like this.

Chijiwa sat with one leg stretched out in the pitch-black darkness, leaning his back against the sidewall, maintaining his expressionless face.

As he strained his eyes in the darkness, memories of his days in the undersea coal mines of Battleship Island came back.

Memories from his early teens, spent without any purpose in life, consumed by the daily toil of mining coal dust.

The pain from those days, when he had given up hope of ever leaving that darkness, faintly returned.

It was a nostalgic pain. Unknowingly, a sentimental feeling squeezed his lungs. Along with it, the face of the girl he had tried not to think about surfaced in the darkness.

—Yuki.

Her long golden hair swaying in the Battleship Island wind.

Her azure eyes resembling the colour of the sea.

Her smile as she looked straight up at him.

His chest ached with pain.

In his ears, Yuki's singing voice from Battleship Island softly echoed.

As he listened to Yuki's song, the scent of those days when he always studied on the bench on the hill returned to his nostrils.

Unable to attend middle school and lagging in his studies, Yuki had lent him textbooks and, neglecting her own singing practice, had stayed by his side to teach him what he didn't understand. When he fell ill with a fever, she skipped school for three days and nights to nurse him. Without Yuki's help, he, poor and without family, probably would never have left Battleship Island.

—And yet, what I did was...

Now, the gentle song that had saved him many times back then was cutting into his heart.

Nine years had passed since he left Battleship Island, and things had changed.

—In the end, all I did was hurt Yuki and make her sad.

—I haven't given anything back for Yuki's devotion.

—I wish I could at least do something to make her happy.

Thinking that, he couldn't come up with anything. As Yuki had said, it seemed he really had nothing besides his talent for flying.

Once again, heavy impacts echoed from afar, shaking the pit of his stomach.

He hated the darkness. It showed him his helplessness from various angles. Being on the ground, not flying, he realized he was just a worthless person.

—You got involved with a worthless man, Yuki.

About a year had passed since the sightseeing flight over the Trebas Atoll. Since then, he hadn't received a single letter from Yuki. Perhaps, faithfully following what he had told her back then, she was getting along with another man by now.

—I hope that's the case.

The moment he thought that, Chijiwa's chest was torn apart.

As if blood were flowing from the wound. It hurt more than being hit by enemy machine gun fire.

—Why am I in pain?

—Isn't this what I wanted?

Staring into the darkness, Chijiwa repeatedly reproached himself.

The source of the pain was his own pettiness.

It was his feelings of affection for Yuki.

"Why now..."

He spat out the words. They were drowned out by the impact sounds and heard by no one.

—A man like me could never make Yuki happy.

──A man possessed by air combat, who has killed over two hundred people.

──With bloodstained hands, I can't hold Yuki's hand.

──If I do that, her song will be tainted.

──That's right. That's why...

──I want Yuki to find happiness with someone else.

He convinced himself of that.

But the pain relentlessly gouged into the deepest part of Chijiwa's heart. That pain unearthed the true feelings he had hidden, tearing them out and thrusting them in front of him.

──Do you really believe that’s Yuki's happiness?

──Do you think Yuki’s happiness lies in becoming someone else's?

"Shut up."

Chijiwa cut off the voice of his heart.

The sound of bombing hadn't stopped. It felt like more than ten minutes had passed since the impacts began.

The pilots crammed into the bomb shelter said nothing. They could only listen to the sound of the enemy's bombs destroying Sechihara Base.

The tide of the war was turning.

That fact seeped into the stomachs of everyone sitting in the dark through the tremors.

Never before had they felt such humiliation. In fact, they had won every air battle. Yet the enemy, undeterred by their losses, continued to replenish their forces and rain down an endless supply of bombs.

Can we even win against an enemy like this?

That unspoken question filled the air in the shelter.

──It’s a time of crisis. There are comrades fighting with us. Those who have already died.

──I’m a man with no skill other than air combat. If I’m not flying, I have no value.

──Whether I live or die doesn’t matter to me.

──I only know how to fight in the sky until I die.

──So... Yuki, please, find happiness on your own path.

Facing the darkness, Chijiwa prayed. That was all he could do. The long bombing finally seemed to be coming to an end.

"Wow..."

"This is terrible..."

Stepping out of the bomb shelter, Sugino and Matsuda were speechless as they squinted under the July sun, taking in the state of Sechihara Airfield.

The ground facilities were completely destroyed.

The aviation command centre, the barracks, and the standby room had all been levelled and were still burning. Thanks to everyone evacuating to the bomb shelters and the palm groves, there were no casualties, but the once comfortable ground facilities were no more.

"Are the planes safe?"

Chijiwa asked a passing mechanic.

"The planes being repaired in the hangar are all gone. The others were in the aircraft shelters, so they’re fine. There’s no problem with the underground facilities."

Relieved, he watched the busy mechanic hurry off. The aircraft shelters were underground bunkers for the planes, and Sechihara Base had facilities capable of hiding hundreds of planes underground or in the dense jungle.

Sugino, hot-tempered as always, cursed in frustration.

"Those cowards! They can’t win, so they drop bombs and run, but the moment they know they can win, they attack en masse. Damn it, it’s so infuriating...!"

He scowled at the pockmarked runway and the ground crews working to repair it.

"From now on, we’ll have to move the command centre deeper into the palm groves or underground. The barracks and the standby room too. It’s going to be tough living in places where sunlight doesn't reach," Matsuda said calmly, his logical nature showing through.

Then, the familiar sound of propellers descended from the sky. Looking up, they saw a formation of Shinden planes beginning their descent. It seemed they had attacked the enemy formation after the bombing and were now returning. The runway was still full of craters, but their remaining fuel must have been critical, forcing them to land despite the danger.

"Quite a few of them are missing..."

That was Chijiwa’s concern. There had been about twenty planes when they took off, but now, fewer than half—just seven or eight—were returning.

"Were they shot down?"

"Mm... I don't want to think about it, but..."

They probably had been. The earlier one-sided bombing was only possible because the interceptors had been eliminated.

It’s generally said that casualty rates increase exponentially with differences in troop strength, with the proportionality constant being training and equipment performance. According to this equation, the side with fewer forces suffers increasingly greater losses as the gap widens, and they become less able to inflict damage on the enemy.

In a dogfight between three Imperial and ten Royal pilots, the Imperial side would normally win. An Imperial pilot, with their superior training and equipment, could take down at least three Royal pilots in exchange for one loss. But from now on, it would be three Imperial pilots against thirty Royal ones. In that case, the three Imperial pilots would be shot down, while all thirty Royal pilots would survive. The wider the gap in numbers, the fewer losses the Royal forces would suffer, and the greater the losses the Imperial forces would endure. This was the kind of battle the Otonashi Air Corps would face in the future.

The Shinden planes began landing one after another.

Even for highly skilled pilots, landing on a cratered runway was difficult. The planes bounced dangerously, but they managed to stop, though each plane was riddled with holes. They had likely been surrounded by the Ayres IVs and struck with armour-piercing rounds. Many of the planes looked like they would take a long time to repair. A reduction in operational planes directly increased the danger for pilots who would take off on future interception missions. Watching their comrades land, Chijiwa prayed for their safe return. But the last plane finally hit a crater, causing a severe bounce.

"No! Get away!!"

Chijiwa shouted to the ground crews on the runway. The Shinden bounced twice, tilting as it struggled to stop. The ground crews scattered, trying to get out of its path.

On the third bounce, the Shinden plunged headfirst into the ground with tremendous force. The cockpit crumpled, and the next moment, flames erupted.

"Aaahhh!?"

Sugino screamed. It was unbearable to watch. The ground crews rushed to extinguish the fire, but the pilot was surely dead. To survive the air battle only to die like this—what a pitiful end. Perhaps the pilot had been wounded or was simply exhausted from the relentless sorties. For a pilot with over a thousand hours of flight time, it was far too anticlimactic an ending...

"Only six returned. One severely damaged, four moderately to lightly damaged. Only one undamaged plane."

Matsuda muttered quietly. It was the first time they had lost over ten Shinden in a single air battle.

"Ugh..."

Chijiwa groaned, staring at the burning Shinden on the runway.

Its twisted, broken tail propeller seemed to ominously hint at the grim future awaiting the Otonashi Air Corps.

The official name was "First Mobile Fleet," but no one called it that.

"Bardot's Mobile Fleet."

That was the common name used among the soldiers of the Holy Levamme Empire's military.

Now, more than 160 warships of various sizes had gathered at the San Cristobal stronghold.

The fleet consisted of five squadrons. Four of them were aerial fleets, each organized into a circular formation cantered around aircraft carriers. Each of these squadrons was nearly equivalent in scale to an entire Imperial fleet.

Bardot's Mobile Fleet included fifteen aircraft carriers in total—double the number the Empire possessed. Additionally, there were four flying battleships, four conventional battleships without launch facilities, sixty-five heavy and light cruisers combined, and seventy-two destroyers. The sight of these warships dominating the sea and sky was something never before seen in Levamme’s history.

"A perfect lunch," Bardot said.

He gazed from the dining hall window of the mobile fleet’s flagship, the regular aircraft carrier Gran Ideal, admiring his fleet like precious newborns. Satisfied, Levamme Navy Commander Wilhelm Bardot cut into a large portion of sirloin and brought it to his mouth.

Chewing the sinewy meat roughly, he washed down the overflowing juices with wine, then followed it with a spoonful of mashed potatoes. The staff officers sharing the table with him were impressed by his hearty appetite, which showed no signs of his fifty-seven years.

"I can forgive cows and pigs. You can kill and eat them."

After saying that, he tore off a chunk of fatty meat. After four chews, he swallowed and continued.

"Monkeys, though? You can't eat them. They’re useless. At best, you can use them in a circus as a spectacle. The proper role of humans is to wipe such creatures off the face of the earth."

These words, filled with derision toward the Amatsukamian people, were part of his daily routine. His staff officers had heard them so often they’d grown tired of them, and when Bardot didn't say them, they actually felt uneasy. His disdain and hatred for the Amatsukamians were almost instinctive. There was no specific reason or event that led to his animosity—it was simply in his nature to reject different races. As a human being, this made him morally wrong, but as a commander fighting against the Amatsukamians, he was unparalleled.

"What we're about to engage in is not a war, but a monkey hunt. There won't be a battle. All we have to do is head to the monkey mountain, enjoy slaughtering them, and plant our flag at the top. It’s no different than a picnic."

He gulped down an entire bottle of wine and signalled for more from the waiter.

Bardot had been waiting for this moment for six months, ever since his appointment.

The mobile fleet currently attacking the Imperial forces on Est Miranda Island was just a decoy, meant to downplay their strength. The fleet conducting exercises here was the true Bardot Mobile Fleet.

The necessary ships, aircraft, and new weapons had finally been assembled. All that remained was to conduct drills, improve their readiness, and test the new electronic equipment. Then, it would be time to go hunting.

"For a year and a half, we’ve let the monkeys run wild. The soldiers must be frustrated. Let’s give them plenty of opportunity to vent all their pent-up anger and frustration."

The staff officers, sensing Bardot’s good mood, followed his lead and smiled along.

"Our aviation unit's training has improved. While we’re still inferior to the Empire's air force in terms of skill, we can more than make up for it with aircraft performance and numbers. This time, we’ll win the air battle too."

"Hmm. Losing in the air is concerning. We've managed thanks to our production power, but the Nexus Air Corps seems to have deteriorated quite a bit."

"They say it's impossible to return alive from Sion Island. Every day, we send out large formations, and every day, we lose half of them. Word has spread even to the Levamme court that we can’t win in the air, which has strengthened the anti-war faction."

Three deep wrinkles appeared on Bardot’s forehead.

"Not a single bomb or torpedo will hit the Gran Ideal. This ship was built to showcase the pride of our nation. There will be no oversight on that front."

The one who nodded was Commander Ramon Task, the man who had led the successful Operation Seagull and was now serving as a key staff officer under Bardot.

"We're fully prepared. There’s no way the Shinden fighters will get close."

Bardot turned his large eyes and glared directly at Ramon.

"Seagull, huh?"

"Yes. We’ve rewritten his past, credentials, and even his name. He’s now promoted to lead the Gran Ideal air unit."

Bardot grinned, his teeth bared.

"Is his skill still sharp?"

"He’s repeatedly engaged in mock dogfights with ace pilots and remains undefeated. No one can best Seagull."

"Good. But has he ever commanded a squadron?"

"Most highly skilled pilots tend to be equally capable as squadron leaders. They simply apply the same techniques they’ve always used, but with an entire formation. With Seagull leading the Gran Ideal's fighter squadron, we will undoubtedly have Levamme’s finest air unit. We’ll prove that over the Est Miranda seas."

Bardot’s face wrinkled into a childlike expression of joy.

The fact that they had been losing local air battles was a source of frustration for the entire Imperial Navy, and in the next naval battle, they were determined to win in the air. Having such a reliable pilot lead their flagship's air squadron was a great relief.

It didn’t matter if Seagull was a bastard or a vagabond. The only thing Bardot required of his subordinates was combat ability. Seagull’s extraordinary dogfighting skills would protect the Gran Ideal.

"I can't wait for winter. I want to drive those filthy monkeys into the northern seas as soon as possible. We’ll send statues of the Eight Gods back to the Empire and smash them to pieces."

Unable to contain his excitement, Bardot set down his knife and fork.

He couldn’t suppress the pounding of his heart as he climbed the stairs and entered the bridge.

Through the bulletproof glass, Bardot's mobile fleet stretched out before him.

The circular formation around the Gran Ideal was flanked by four other squadron formations. Together, the five formations created what could be described as a "cross-shaped circular formation."

Over 160 warships were connected in this massive defensive structure. Each individual carrier was equipped with the latest radar, allowing them to detect incoming enemy aircraft long before they arrived. The fleet’s escort fighters would intercept the enemy far from the carriers, launching multiple attacks before the enemy could drop their torpedoes or bombs.

Even if some elite enemy planes made it past the escort fighters, the new fuses in their defensive guns turned each formation into a blazing volcano. Any bombers that approached would be swallowed by the flames rising from the heavy cruisers, light cruisers, and destroyers.

Even if they somehow made it past those four formations, they would still face the grand formation around the Gran Ideal. Nearly forty warships guarded the carrier, with anti-aircraft fire forming a literal wall of flame. No matter how skilled the enemy pilots were, there was no way they could break through.

Bardot imagined a scene of monkeys on fire falling into the sea, and a fresh smile spread across his face.

The machine that would enforce Bardot’s will on the Amatsukamians now loomed on the sea in front of the San Cristobal stronghold.

"Winter, hurry and come."

Watching the fleet’s precise manoeuvres, Bardot dreamed of the coming decisive battle.

Chijiwa, Sugino, Matsuda, Kannonji, and Mido received their transfer orders to the Unkaku Air Squadron in early October.

When Commander Shirase personally delivered the news in the underground aviation command centre, Sugino and Matsuda couldn't hide their joy.

"We’ll be able to join the decisive battle, right?!"

Sugino leaned forward eagerly, and under the bare light bulb, Commander Shirase smiled at them.

"I don’t want to let you go, but you were personally requested by the Unkaku's captain. Please don’t overdo it... though even if I asked, you probably would anyway. In a week, return to Awa Island via the Trevas Atoll. The combined fleet is assembling for the decisive battle. It’s likely going to be an even bigger engagement than the Battle of Victoria Sea. Unlike six months ago, this time the enemy will be fighting in earnest. Be vigilant and don’t let your guard down."

After responding with a salute, the five of them returned to the surface.

Under the clear autumn sky, Sugino and Matsuda wore smiles the entire time.

"We’re returning to the Unkaku! It’s going to be busy, but I’m happy we can take part in a sea battle!"

Kannonji and Mido also couldn’t help but smile.

"I was just starting to get used to Sechihara, but going back to sea is great."

"Yeah, I’m getting tired of living underground like a mole."

The enemy air raids were getting fiercer with each passing day, and now even the barracks were underground. Their daily routine alternated between hiding in lightless holes or battling enemies in the sky. For those selected, the transfer orders were a welcome change from the dreary days.

"Still, even if it’s just temporary, losing you three is going to be hard for the Otonashi Air Squadron."

Matsuda muttered softly. By now, Chijiwa, Kannonji, and Mido were regarded as guardian deities of Sechihara Base. Sugino and Matsuda, who had joined later, had also seen a remarkable increase in their kill counts, actively participating in daily air battles over the past two months.

"The enemies just keep coming, no matter how many we shoot down. It feels like the more we take out, the more they appear."

Kannonji’s comment reflected the general sentiment of the Otonashi squadron. No matter how many air battles they won, the Imperial forces showed no signs of weakening. It felt like slashing at waves as they crashed onshore.

"Our pilot numbers are also dwindling. With us five leaving, it’ll only add more strain on them."

Mido sounded apologetic. He felt a sense of guilt for the comrades in the Otonashi squadron, with whom he had formed a close bond.

"… No point in worrying. Our job is just to shoot down enemy planes."

Chijiwa bluntly said. His words were devoid of sentiment, but they were the harsh reality. Their circumstances or feelings wouldn’t be considered. Their only role was to head to the designated battlefield and fight until their lives ran out. That was a soldier's duty.

A week later, the five of them boarded their respective aircraft, escorted by land-based attack planes, and left Sechihara Base behind. As they flew past the silhouette of Sion Island, which had served as a forward base half a year earlier, they landed at the beautiful capital base of the Trevas Atoll.

After staying the night and refuelling, they set off again with other transferred pilots. They flew past the great waterfall, traversing the familiar skies of the East Sea, and landed on Iyo Island, where they stayed for another night.

The next morning, they joined up with other pilots selected from the Iyo Island air squadron, and about fifty Shinden aircraft headed eastward toward the combined fleet's assembly point.

Bored by the long flight, Chijiwa gripped the controls of his Beagle aircraft.

No matter how far they flew, the autumn sky remained unchanged, and the sea below them was calm. It was a welcome break from hiding underground at Sechihara Base, but having grown accustomed to constant air battles, the peaceful, enemy-free skies now felt unbearably dull.

As he let out a huge yawn and lazily followed the land-based attack planes—

"Oh."

Their destination came into view on the horizon.

It was Awa Island, the largest Imperial stronghold in the East Sea.

Awa Island had long been part of Amatsukami territory, with a climate and landscape similar to the homeland. Even the native population spoke fluent Amatsukami language. For Chijiwa, who had been hopping between front lines for so long, the sight of the island filled him with a comforting sense of returning home.

The lead attack planes began to gradually descend. The fifty Shinden aircraft trailing behind followed suit.

The island grew larger, revealing its contours, with soft green mountains and gleaming silver streaks on the sea.

The south-eastern part of the island curved inward, forming a large crescent-shaped bay. The bay served as a military port, with numerous warships anchored. The harbor was protected by extensive docks and breakwaters, and concrete gun emplacements lined the coastline to defend the vessels within.

It was the Daidoarai Fortress.

A critical outpost for Amatsukami’s westward expansion, it had withstood countless Imperial Navy assaults in the early stages of the Central Sea War, often turning the tables on its attackers. The bay was vast, but its entrance was narrow. Protected by the Daidoarai Fortress, the combined fleet waited in its safe harbor, as if resting in the womb before the next decisive battle.

Chijiwa and his team entered a descent spiral over Daidoarai Bay and landed at the nearby Daidoarai Airfield. As they opened their canopies, the familiar breeze of the East Sea greeted them, tickling their nostrils.

"Wow, Awa Island really is something! It smells just like home!"

Sugino ran up to Chijiwa’s side, beaming.

"They say we’re free to do as we please tonight. Lieutenant, how about we enjoy some real Amatsukami cuisine for the first time in a while?"

Even the usually quiet Matsuda seemed giddy, a little excitement leaking into his voice. Kannonji and Mido nodded in agreement as they received their schedule and accommodations from an officer at the air command. They were dismissed for the day and headed to the bustling downtown area together.

"There are so many warships docked here—it’s full of life."

"With such a big operation on the horizon, I’m sure even the townspeople are feeling excited. It’s no wonder, considering we’ve been winning up until now…"

As their wingmen suggested, the downtown area of Daidoarai was buzzing with navy personnel, wearing their uniforms and walking around in large groups. The sailors, having been cooped up on their ships for long stretches, were lavish with their spending once ashore. Not knowing if they’d survive to see tomorrow, they were eager to enjoy the present. The red-light district and fine dining establishments were packed with soldiers.

The colonization of this island by the Amatsukami began about thirty years ago. The diligent settlers cultivated fields, built roads, and installed water, sewage, and electric infrastructure, creating a town on this remote island that was virtually indistinguishable from Amatsukami mainland. The island was vast, with abundant water and ample flatlands, leading to Awa Island’s rapid growth. The street signs were all written in Amatsukami, and most of the buildings were traditional wooden structures with tiled roofs. Even the locals spoke fluent Amatsukami, making the atmosphere no different from the homeland.

On a narrow street lined with shops, eateries, and inns, children wearing tin-pot helmets and sleeveless shirts played, brandishing sticks as they chased each other.

One of them noticed Chijiwa and the others in their flight suits and stopped in his tracks.

"Look! It’s a pilot! A pilot!"

The child snapped to attention with all the effort he could muster and saluted Chijiwa. The snot-nosed boys with shaved heads who had followed him did the same, lining up beside him, backs straight, and saluting.

"Thank you, pilot sir!"

"Thanks to you, we can live safely!"

It seemed they were reciting the lines they had learned in school, shouting with serious expressions that seemed a bit forced. Chijiwa, unsure of how to respond, twisted his face into his usual grimace and muttered,

"...I see."

His expressionless words were tossed in a random direction. He glanced at Sugino out of the corner of his eye.

Sugino grinned broadly, patting each of the boys on their shaved heads.

"Do you all want to be pilots too?"

"Yes, sir! When I grow up, I'll fly in the sky!"

"Good. Work hard. By then, the war will be over, and you’ll be flying in peaceful skies."

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

The boys stared blankly at Sugino’s words before responding.

"Yes, sir!" "We'll work hard for our country!" "We’ll fight and shoot down the enemy!"

Sugino’s smile faded slightly, a hint of sadness creeping in.

"...Alright, off you go!"

"Yes, sir!"

Following his command, the boys enthusiastically waved their hands and marched down the street until they disappeared from sight.

Matsuda, watching their small backs retreating, murmured,

"Even children that young are taught to see fighting the enemy as something normal..."

The five men, having flown through countless battlefields, understood all too well what the reality of war was like. It was one thing to accept it for themselves, but the thought of forcing that reality onto those younger than them left them feeling uneasy.

"By the time those kids grow up, the war will be over. And it’ll be our victory. They'll fly alongside the Levamme, not as 'monkeys' but as equals, as fellow humans."

Sugino spoke as if trying to encourage himself. Chijiwa remained silent, listening to his two wingmen.

It was three weeks later when the combined fleet finished assembling at Daidoarai Bay and finalized the operation plan.

The offensive, dubbed "Operation Ho," was aimed at capturing Est Miranda Island and annihilating the enemy carrier fleet patrolling the surrounding waters.

Three months earlier, a naval landing force had established an airfield on Est Miranda, but the Imperial forces’ counterattacks had been more serious than expected, and although the landing force had been holding its ground, it was weakening by the day. Supplying the stranded soldiers was difficult due to the need to cross the Great Falls from Awa Island, and they were running out of ammunition and food. The Admiralty and the combined fleet decided to seize Est Miranda as a crucial stronghold in the Northern West Sea and launched Operation Ho. The desire for an early decisive battle with the rumoured Bardot Fleet was likely another factor in their decision. Just like the Battle of Victoria Sea, the operation would aim to achieve two conflicting goals: capturing an island and annihilating an enemy fleet.

The operation involved 57 warships, including six regular carriers—an experienced force made up of battle-hardened veterans from the Victoria Sea campaign. A warship is a weapon operated by hundreds or even thousands of crew members unified in purpose, and the outcome of a fleet engagement is said to depend on the crew’s training. While it was already known that the Bardot Fleet had more than three times the number of ships, the Admiralty believed that the superior training of the Yagami Fleet would offset the numerical disadvantage.

Among the four fleet divisions, the first and second divisions were composed of six carriers, while the third and fourth divisions were the assault force, led by super-dreadnoughts Hida and Settsu, along with other battleships. After eliminating the enemy fleet from the waters around Est Miranda, these divisions would land troops on the island.

Chijiwa and the four other selected members of the Otonashi Air Squadron were assigned to the Unkaku Air Squadron.

For Chijiwa, the Unkaku was a carrier he had grown accustomed to through numerous transfers. After saluting the captain of the Unkaku, Commander Miyoshi, and the squadron’s new air officer, they made their introductions.

"I wanted to call Lieutenant Hasami too, but Commander Shirase wouldn’t allow it. Competent wing leaders can’t be spared anywhere. The Otonashi squadron must be struggling after losing you five, so I didn’t push too hard."

Captain Miyoshi chuckled as he introduced the new air officer who would be leading Chijiwa’s group.

"This is Lieutenant Gokosho. Follow his orders in the upcoming battle."

A slender man with an intellectual look surveyed Chijiwa and the others.

"I'm Gokosho. I've heard about your successes at Sechihara—impressive results. But the Unkaku Air Squadron is now full of veterans, each capable of taking down a thousand enemies. Let's show mutual respect and avoid any behaviour that could disrupt our discipline."

His tone was authoritative from the start. He probably knew of Chijiwa’s reputation for challenging superiors and wanted to assert control from the outset.

Chijiwa stared at the wall beyond Gokosho’s shoulder, his expression unchanged, without responding. Kannonji and Mido, knowing Chijiwa’s temperament, smiled and answered in his place.

"We’ll keep that in mind."

"We'll give it our best."

They said what was needed to smooth things over, and after receiving some encouraging words from Captain Miyoshi about their future efforts, they hurriedly left the scene.

"I don’t like him," Chijiwa muttered as they navigated through the carrier’s familiar corridors to their assigned quarters. Sitting down on his bunk, he grumbled softly.

"You're rarely fond of any air officer, Lieutenant," Sugino replied, unconcerned, as he hooked his legs around the top rail of the bunk and hung upside down with a grin.

"It’s been a while since we’ve done this! How about it?"

"I'll join you too," said Matsuda, also flipping upside down, awaiting their superior’s participation.

"...Tch."

Reluctantly urged on by his wingmen, Chijiwa finally hung upside down as well.

"One! Two! Three...!"

With Sugino leading the count, the three of them began doing upside-down sit-ups in unison. Kannonji and Mido, watching from the side, shook their heads at the strange sight of the Chijiwa squadron’s peculiar training.

To reach Est Miranda from Awa Island, they would have to cross the Great Falls, which meant that only vessels equipped with launch and recovery systems could take part in this battle. The Imperial Navy had been in the process of converting its surface ships into flying ships, anticipating that future battles would be fought over the Western Sea, but the lack of materials and funding had slowed progress. Most of the airships involved in Operation Ho were the same ones that had participated in the Victoria Sea campaign. The Imperial Navy would have to rely on its veteran crews’ training and skills to counter the overwhelming numerical advantage of the Imperial forces.

As the Yagami fleet crossed the Great Falls, the first enemy sighting report arrived from a reconnaissance plane.

"1025 hours. Enemy main force spotted. Bearing 93 degrees from Cape Rolo, distance 140 nautical miles. Heading 190, speed 20 knots."

Tension rippled through the bridge of the flagship Bofu. The report had come in much sooner than expected, and additional reports quickly followed.

"Enemy main force consists of more than 160 ships. 15 regular carriers, 8 battleships, 4 of which are flying battleships. Countless cruisers and destroyers. Exact numbers unknown."

"The enemy main force is arranged in five divisions, forming a cross-shaped defensive formation. The central division, consisting of 7 regular carriers, is anchored around the flagship Gran Ideal. 1028 hours."

It was an immense fleet. With 15 regular carriers, their air strength would be three times greater than the Imperial forces. However, the early discovery of the enemy fleet was a stroke of luck.

There was still a significant distance between the enemy main force and the Yagami fleet, offering a strategic advantage.

"We can attack from out of range."

Once again, Commander Yagami was confident that the goddess of victory was smiling upon the Imperial Navy.

While the enemy's fighters, bombers, and torpedo bombers were heavily armoured, they had short ranges. The Imperial aircraft, on the other hand, were lightly armoured but had a far greater range. They could now exploit this advantage, launching attacks from a distance that the enemy couldn’t reach.

Without suffering any counterattacks, they would be able to strike with impunity. It was a dream scenario for any military strategist, and it had materialized over these seas.

"Launch all aircraft!"

With that command from Commander Yagami, the battle of Est Miranda was set to begin.

Same day, 10:40 a.m.

On the flight deck of the regular carrier Unkaku──

Nearly a hundred pilots had gathered on the flight deck near the bridge. The announcement "All attack squads, line up!" echoed through the speakers as the flight commander began to write the positions of both the enemy and friendly carriers on the blackboard. "Enemy flagship carrier Gran Ideal, 135 nautical miles southwest of Cape Rolo, heading 170 degrees, speed 20 knots." The pilots crowded around the blackboard in a fan shape, their eyes wide, burning the details of the enemy's location into their minds.

The breakdown was as follows: 15 aircraft from the air superiority fighter squadron, Shinden. Following them were 25 aircraft from the carrier-based bomber squadron, Rensei, and 10 from the torpedo squadron, Tensui. Fifteen aircraft were left to cover the immediate air defence of the Unkaku. All five members of the Otonashi Air Squadron, including Chijiwa, were assigned to the air superiority squadron for this mission. Their task was to clear the airspace around the enemy carriers ahead of the bombers and torpedo planes, engaging and neutralizing any defending fighters. It was a prestigious role for a carrier fighter squadron, as their success would be crucial in ensuring the attack on the enemy carriers succeeded. The leader of the air superiority squadron was Lieutenant Gokosho Ryuichi, an officer who had taken up the mantle of leadership for the Unkaku Air Squadron after Chijiwa and Hasami transferred to the Otonashi.

"Air superiority squadron, take off!!"

At the flight commander’s command, Chijiwa and the rest of the squadron sprinted toward their beloved aircraft. Climbing up the ladders, they slid into their cockpits and started the hydrogen fuel cell stacks.

The DC motors of the Shinden lined up on the rear deck roared to life. The propeller vibrations shook the air, transforming the atmosphere into that of a battlefield.

The lead aircraft, Gokosho's, accelerated rapidly and took off, lifting its wheels off the deck just before the bridge. In rapid succession, the following 14 planes took off, one after the other. With the officers on deck seeing them off, they formed five three-plane formations at an altitude of 4,000 meters and flew southwest.

As always, Chijiwa flew with Sugino and Matsuda at his sides, following closely behind Gokosho's squadron. Staring through the windscreen at Gokosho’s tail propeller, he maintained a speed of 450 km/h.

Soon, they merged with the air superiority squadrons launched from five other regular carriers, forming a massive formation of around 90 Shinden, all flying in unison toward their confrontation with the Bardot fleet's air force.

The sky was cloudy, with poor visibility.

Neither side would easily spot the other in today’s weather.

They flew with the silhouette of Est Miranda Island to their right. Chijiwa, not letting his guard down, carefully memorized the island's shape, marking it on his chart so he could navigate back alone if necessary.

After crossing Cape Rolo, the endless sea stretched before them.

According to the battle plan outlined earlier on the bridge, it would take about an hour and a half to reach the enemy fleet at cruising speed. Chijiwa, somewhat relaxed, figured they still had time before they encountered the enemy. However, something strange appeared in his line of sight.

"What the...?"

Even without keen eyesight, anyone could see this approaching enemy formation. The agitation of Gokosho’s lead aircraft was apparent, even from behind.

The expression "like a mass of clouds" perfectly described the enemy formation ahead.

At a distance of about 10,000 meters, the tightly packed enemy formation loomed like a dark cumulonimbus cloud.

The enemy planes were spread across three altitudes: 8,000 meters, 5,000 meters, and 2,000 meters, with around 100 fighters in each layer.

In total, there were 300 enemy fighters in the intercept squadron. And they were waiting far from their carriers, meaning they would be able to launch repeated attacks before the Imperial forces could reach their targets. No matter how skilled the Imperial air superiority squadron was, it would be near impossible to fulfill their mission when pursued relentlessly by three times their number of enemy aircraft.

Chijiwa clenched his teeth.

He directed his thoughts toward Gokosho’s plane, silently pleading.

"Stay with the bombers and torpedo planes. Air superiority is out of the question."

The role of the air superiority squadron was to precede the bombers and torpedo planes and clear the airspace around the enemy carriers.

But given the overwhelming enemy presence, it was clear that air superiority was unachievable.

In that case, the best course would be to abandon air superiority, join up with the bombers and torpedo planes, and protect them as they launched their attacks on the enemy carriers.

Though it would still be a difficult battle, this strategy might at least inflict some damage on the enemy fleet. Charging headfirst into such a massive enemy formation would risk the complete annihilation of the air superiority squadron. If they were wiped out, the bombers and torpedo planes would be left unprotected, and their fate would be sealed.

"Don't charge in. Pull back."

Chijiwa glared at the squadron leader's plane, gritting his teeth. But there was no sign that Gokosho intended to retreat. Determined not to show their backs to the enemy, they charged recklessly into the formation.

Chijiwa glanced to his sides.

Sugino and Matsuda were both looking at him with anxious expressions.

Chijiwa nodded grimly, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

──Follow me.

He gave a hand signal, one that only his long-time wingmen would understand. Sugino and Matsuda, visibly relieved, nodded in return. It was a signal that, if necessary, Chijiwa would disobey the squadron leader’s orders.

──I won't throw away our lives for some foolhardy officer's decisions.

Subtly easing off the throttle, Chijiwa’s squadron began to distance themselves from Gokosho’s fast-advancing plane. Other air superiority fighters passed them, casting puzzled looks down at Chijiwa’s group as they overtook them—these were pilots from the carrier air squadrons who had little experience in dogfighting.

──They're overconfident in their abilities.

Chijiwa, who had constantly engaged in air battles with Imperial pilots as part of the Otonashi squadron, could tell.

The skill gap between the two forces was shrinking. The enemy now had veteran pilots who had survived since the start of the war and shared their knowledge of air combat. Additionally, the Aires IV fighters had surpassed the Shinden in performance, and now, the enemy outnumbered them three-to-one. Charging headlong into this formation was like ramming into a concrete wall, and it would only result in senseless deaths.

When the distance to the enemy formation dropped to 5,000 meters, the black cloud began to surge toward them like an avalanche.

Even Chijiwa, a battle-hardened veteran, couldn’t help but let out a low groan at the overwhelming numbers. The enemy, already confident of their victory, descended on the Shinden squadron from all three layers: top, middle, and bottom.

The sky was filled with enemy aircraft.

"Don't take them head-on!!"

Chijiwa shouted at Gokosho and, at the same time, pushed his control stick sideways, kicking the rudder bar. With Sugino and Matsuda following his lead, he banked sharply and dove into the clouds.

Enveloped in a field of greyish-white, Chijiwa headed toward the bombers and torpedo planes following behind. He had decided early on to abandon the mission of securing air superiority and focus on protecting the bombers and torpedo planes. Not only Chijiwa, but also other experienced pilots like Kannonji and Mido, followed suit, diving into the clouds to avoid a direct confrontation with the enemy.

However, Gokosho was undeterred.

Glaring fiercely at the overwhelming enemy formation, he charged straight in, determined to rely on his honed skills and fearlessly plunge into the horde of lesser-trained enemies like a samurai.

Fifty-odd Shinden followed Gokosho.

The swarm of over 300 Aires IV descended upon the Shinden all at once.

In an instant, a storm of metal tore through the sky.

The crisscrossing streams of tracer bullets shredded the November sky.

Orange explosions blossomed in the sky, and waves of shattered duralumin sliced through the air. The Shinden, torn apart with their wings ripped off, were reduced to burning fuselages, plummeting toward the sea below.

A torrential downpour of 20mm cannon shells tore through the Shinden, turning their aircraft into honeycombs.

Tail propellers were blown away. Jet-black silhouettes were engulfed by a hail of tracer rounds, disintegrating into fragments.

Two, three, four planes were swallowed by the flames in the blink of an eye—all of them Shinden.

The Aires IV, with superior climb and dive capabilities and powered by more potent DC motors, attacked in pairs or more, always outnumbering the Shinden. While the Shinden tried to counter with three-plane formations, the disparity in numbers made it impossible to engage in proper dogfights. Surrounded, they were attacked from above and below, their entire frames pierced by volleys of machine-gun fire, sending them plummeting to their deaths.

Even when a Shinden pilot managed to get behind an Aires IV, lining up the enemy in their sights for a shot left them temporarily vulnerable. The role of the wingman was to protect the lead pilot during this moment, but with each plane surrounded by multiple enemies, they couldn’t provide cover. As a result, before the Shinden could shoot down their targets, they themselves were shot down by other enemy fighters.

With every passing moment, the number of Shinden dwindled.

The Aires IV remained nearly unscathed, mercilessly toying with the Shinden.

What began as a 300-to-50 dogfight soon became 280-to-30 within five minutes, and then 270-to-10 after ten minutes. The side with superior numbers suffered minimal losses, while the outnumbered side endured catastrophic casualties.

Gokosho, his plane battered and broken, still flew amidst the countless enemy aircraft.

Blood stained his entire face, and fragments of his plane, torn apart by armour-piercing shells, dug into his body. Harsh winds, relentless in their assault, battered him within the cockpit. Yet, even as blood dripped from his eyes, he refused to stop fighting.

His comrades had almost all been shot down. It was unbelievable to see the once-invincible Shinden being so thoroughly defeated by the Aires IV, even with the numerical disparity.

Glaring through his bloodied vision, he scanned the surrounding airspace.

Every plane in sight was an Aires IV, their greyish-blue bodies filling the sky. Not a single jet-black Shinden remained.

──Has the entire air superiority squadron been wiped out?

──The invincible Shinden, brought down by an enemy that only had numbers...

Just as that thought flashed through his mind, three Aires IV dove down from above.

A barrage of explosive rounds pierced Gokosho’s cockpit. For a lightly armoured Shinden, taking a hit from a 20mm explosive shell was equivalent to a direct hit from a cannon. Gokosho and his plane were both blown apart, scattering over the waters off Est Miranda.

The 270 victorious Aires IV now turned their attention to their next prey—the Imperial bomber and torpedo squadrons.

Picket destroyers, whose primary role was gathering intelligence, patrolled the surrounding waters, using their radar systems to track the location of the Imperial forces. With their high-performance radar detectors, they quickly located the Imperial bombers and torpedo planes flying in from the rear, sending this information to the combat information centre on the regular carrier Gran Ideal. There, the battlefield data was consolidated, calculating the heading, altitude, and speed of the Imperial formations, and the refined, high-quality information was relayed to the 270 Aires IV in the interception squadron. This interception system, devised by Bardot’s right-hand man, Lieutenant Commander Ramon Task, allowed the Royal Navy to launch repeated attacks on the Imperial forces long before they reached their targets.

At that very moment, the data from the combat information centre was transmitted to the Aires IV squadron commander. With perfect enemy data in hand, pinpointing the location of the Imperial bombers and torpedo planes, the commander grabbed his radio and issued his orders.

"We’ve found the next monkey mountain. This time it's the females and their cubs. Don't hold back. Leave none alive."

Filled with language that Bardot would appreciate, the Aires IV flipped their silver wings and set off for the next hunting ground.

As he flew through the clouds, Chijiwa thought of the comrades he had left behind.

By now, they had likely been engulfed by the enemy’s tidal wave, their lives ended in the vast ocean below.

He pitied the non-commissioned officers who had been forced to follow such a foolish command. There was no need to throw their lives away under the reckless orders of an overconfident commander. If they were to die, it should be based on their own decisions, facing the consequences of their own judgment.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, hidden within the white haze, Chijiwa began to sense the enemy’s intent.

──They lured us into an out-of-range attack.

──Bardot's plan from the start was interception.

Most likely, the enemy fleet had deliberately revealed itself early on through its scouting planes to tempt the Imperial forces into launching an out-of-range attack. Bardot intended to destroy the Imperial forces using his state-of-the-art interception system. Commander Yagami had fallen right into Bardot’s trap.

──However, our own interception forces are strong too. It won’t be that easy for the Royal Navy to strike.

From what he had seen earlier, the Royal Navy had deployed a large portion of their fighters for interception. The Bardot fleet would soon be entering waters where they could be attacked by the Yagami fleet, but with so many of their fighters engaged in interception, their offensive capability seemed weak. The battle was not yet lost.

Breaking through the clouds, Chijiwa spotted the friendly carrier-based bomber squadron Rensei and the carrier-based torpedo squadron Tensui, preparing to launch their attack. Chijiwa cut across their flight path, flashing his plane’s insignia and signalling to his comrades.

"Providing escort. There's a superior enemy force ahead."

The squadron welcomed the famed "Mad Dog" as their escort. Sugino, Matsuda, Kannonji, Mido, and around 30 other veteran pilots who had survived the interception also joined in to provide cover.

Chijiwa scanned the sky, searching for the enemy formation he had seen earlier.

The key to reaching the enemy fleet was to avoid engaging with the superior enemy forces ahead.

──The enemy is close.

A strong premonition resonated through the cockpit. Even though they were out of sight, Chijiwa’s instincts, honed over two years of flying in battle, told him the enemy was near.

He scrutinized the scattered clouds around them.

There, in a break between the clouds, he caught a glimpse of the sky tinged with a slight darkness. The difference in shade was so subtle that an ordinary person wouldn’t notice it, but Chijiwa’s intuition warned him of danger.

He focused intently. His eyes, trained by countless battles, pierced through the clouds.

──There. They're coming.

About 15,000 meters ahead, a formation of over a hundred enemy planes was charging toward them as if they already knew their location.

──The enemy has perfected radar detection systems.

In that moment of certainty, Chijiwa sped to the front of the friendly formation, pointing toward the enemy’s position and banking his wings.

"Follow me. I'll lead the way."

He signalled to his comrades, taking the lead and guiding them through a course that kept the clouds between them and the approaching enemy.

Surveying the area, he spotted enemy picket destroyers spread out across the ocean. Those destroyers were likely using radar to track their position and relay the information to the enemy's carriers.

──The enemy's radar is more advanced than ours.

The Imperial forces had radar detection systems, too.

But their performance was crude, and they were almost useless in actual combat. The Royal Navy seemed to believe that the Imperial forces had superior radar systems, but in truth, the Imperial Navy was relying on highly trained specialists using their skills and intuition to perform superhuman feats. What the Royal Navy perceived as the power of advanced technology was actually the result of the Imperial soldiers' honed skills and indomitable spirit.

──If we’re outnumbered and outmatched in technology…

A sense of foreboding began to settle in.

Darting in and out of the clouds, Chijiwa led his squadron in evading the enemy.

The radar information provided to the enemy could only offer a rough estimate of their position. Ultimately, the enemy would need to spot them with their own eyes. By making the best use of the current conditions, Chijiwa was able to compensate for the technological disadvantage in information-gathering. Keeping the enemy within his field of vision, he continued to guide his comrades to the safest part of the sky, where they would be hardest to detect.

And then...

The dense clouds suddenly cleared, and Chijiwa’s eyes were filled with an endless expanse of blue sky and sea.

At an altitude of 5,500 meters, with only one or two small clouds in sight, there was virtually no cover to hide in.

Cutting through this vast, pure-blue world were five ominous rings forming a cross on the sea’s surface far below.

The entire ocean was stained white with the wake of countless warships. Over 160 ships, their presence overwhelming, caused sweat to drip from Chijiwa's hands.

Five circular formations, each about five kilometres in diameter, spread out off the coast of Est Miranda.

At the centre of the formation was Bardot’s flagship, the carrier Gran Ideal, surrounded by the other four circular formations, arranged in a cross. Each formation had regular carriers at its core, surrounded by other ships pointing all their anti-aircraft guns skyward, forming an excessively fortified air defence.

"We're supposed to attack this?"

Chijiwa glanced back at his comrades, letting out a groan.

The enemy’s confidence was clear. Each regular carrier had at least six escorting cruisers or destroyers, all armed and ready, waiting for the Imperial attack in this sea of anti-aircraft fire. Charging into this barrage would require tremendous courage.

But there was no sign of hesitation among the Imperial bomber and torpedo squadrons. This was their moment to shine, and they were brimming with resolve.

The formation consisted of 120 Rensei dive bombers and 60 Tensui torpedo bombers. These were elite units, manned by veteran pilots who had been flying since the war began.

Fortunately, thanks to the radar detection system, the enemy’s direct air cover had left this airspace. This was due to Chijiwa’s guidance, but there was no time to waste—the enemy fighters could return at any moment. Right now was a rare and golden opportunity.

The torpedo squadron began to descend. Their target was undoubtedly the flagship Gran Ideal. They intended to brave the anti-aircraft fire and strike Bardot with their precious oxygen torpedoes.

The squadron leader saluted Chijiwa as they flew past him.

It was a salute of gratitude for escorting them this far. Chijiwa returned the salute, praying for their success.

Both the bomber and torpedo pilots had endured over a thousand hours of intense training to deliver their payloads onto enemy ships. To stand on this stage today, they had literally shed blood, sweat, and tears, honing their skills every single day. Now was the time to showcase the results of their effort.

As an escort fighter, Chijiwa had done all he could. All that remained was to watch their attack and hope they would return safely to the carriers.

──Let as many succeed as possible.

As soon as he finished his prayer, the Rensei squadron began their full-force dive-bombing run.

Cutting diagonally through the blue sky, they plunged at a 60-degree angle, diving straight toward their targets.

Following their leader, the bombers entered a perfectly synchronized dive, with each subsequent plane tracing the squadron leader’s path. Their coordination, the result of intense training, was breathtakingly beautiful.

The first wave of 60 planes began their attack in quick succession. The plan was for the second wave to hit the enemy while they were manoeuvring to evade the first strike.

The 15 Rensei, each carrying a 500 kg bomb, sliced through the blue sky in a steep dive.

The pilots, their blood rushing to their heads, fought to keep their vision from blacking out. With a 60-degree dive angle, the control stick felt as heavy as an anchor, requiring immense strength to manoeuvre. Bracing their entire bodies against the controls and enduring forces of five to six Gs, they aimed the sight of their targeting systems squarely at the flagship Gran Ideal.

Before reaching the central formation around the flagship, they would first have to break through the outer defensive formations.

As the lead 15 bombers approached the airspace above the outermost formation, the battleships, light and heavy cruisers, and destroyers below unleashed hundreds of anti-aircraft guns, filling the sky with fire.

In an instant, it was as if an underwater volcano had erupted. Forty-millimetre anti-aircraft guns from the cross-shaped formations painted crimson crosses of fire across the sky.

The 15 Rensei bravely dodged through the anti-aircraft barrage.

Anti-aircraft fire rarely hit its target. It was difficult to hit fast-moving planes with the short-range guns, so the purpose of the barrage was mainly to create interference. If a plane was hit, it was just unlucky. At least, that had been the belief until now.

But then, as a fiery line reached the belly of one of the bombers—

The Fireline exploded.

A ball of fire extended outward like the tentacles of an octopus.

Ensnared by countless lines of flame, the Rensei, its wings and tail torn off, spun down like a helpless insect, crashing into the sea below.

More lines of fire shot toward the following planes. As soon as they reached the vicinity of a bomber, the flames expanded outward like a giant net.

It was a fiery web. And this web spread out just in front of the bombers, as if it had been precisely calibrated to do so.

Even the most experienced pilot couldn’t evade it.

In an instant, the net ensnared another Rensei, its 500 kg bomb forcibly detonating, sending the plane and its payload into a blazing explosion mid-air.

The barrage of high-angle fire didn’t stop. The crimson rain of destruction continued to shoot skyward from the formation.

The terrifying part was that the rain of fire wasn’t just thick and impenetrable—it exploded just as it neared its target.

One by one, the 15 Rensei were caught in this fiery net and forced to prematurely detonate the bombs they carried, unable to even reach their targets.

Watching the tragic spectacle of explosions bloom in the air, Chijiwa could only stare in shock.

He understood now what kind of anti-aircraft fire the enemy was using.

“VT fuses…!!”

The anti-aircraft gunners' dream weapon had finally appeared on the battlefield.

Typically, anti-aircraft fuses were timed, set to explode at a specific altitude. But because of the difficulty of hitting a moving aircraft, they were largely ineffective, serving mainly as deterrents.

But the shells the Royal Navy was firing now clearly had proximity fuses—warheads equipped with radar that exploded when they approached an aircraft. Previously thought impossible due to the enormous G-forces exerted on the fuse during launch, the Royal Navy had managed to bring this dream weapon into reality.

"Abort! Turn back!!"

Chijiwa shouted to the Rensei and Tensui squadrons. Their leaders weren’t fools; they had likely realized by now that the enemy was using VT fuses.

The enemy’s circular formations were like ironclad fortresses protecting the central carriers. Attempting to break through would mean being caught in those fiery nets. Charging in with bombs strapped to their bellies would lead to a predictable and grim end.

But—there was no option for the Imperial forces to retreat.

"Stop…!!"

Chijiwa’s desperate plea went unheard as the Rensei squadron continued their dive-bombing run.

At the same time, the Tensui torpedo planes, skimming just above the water, accelerated toward the enemy formation.

The Rensei sliced through the sky at a steep angle, while the Tensui, flying at just 50 meters above the water, pushed to battle speed to punch through the flaming iron walls.

In the next moment, as the valiant hawks attempted to leap over the fortress—

The cross-shaped volcano erupted.

A fiery rain of explosive lightning shot upward. Thousands of flashes of light burst in front of the hawks. Yellowish-brown smoke billowed up, and explosions triggered more explosions. The Rensei were torn apart, their horizontal and vertical stabilizers ripped off, sending their fuselages plummeting toward the sea.

The rain didn’t let up. The explosions chained together. The 500 kg bombs, pierced by shrapnel from the VT fuses, roared in fiery despair.

Without even landing a single blow, the highly trained warriors were decimated.

Countless watery blooms spread across the ocean. Water columns rose everywhere.

The enemy’s anti-aircraft fire continued to shoot up triumphantly. The Rensei and Tensui squadrons, charging into the fiery barriers, were all but obliterated.

“Retreat! It’s a trap!!”

Chijiwa’s desperate cry fell on deaf ears.

The Imperial forces charged headlong into the impossibly strong fortress rising from the ocean, as if they were drawn to it. Not one tried to escape.

It was as if they couldn’t believe what was happening. They seemed determined to prove that this couldn’t be real, that they would be the ones to break through the fortress and sink the enemy carriers. No matter how many comrades fell, they pressed on, hoping to charge over their bodies and into the heart of the cross-shaped formation.

Watching this, Chijiwa bit down hard enough on his lip to draw blood.

These pilots had endured over a thousand hours of gruelling training, their bodies soaked in sweat, tears, and blood, all to show their worth today.

And now, they were being shot down like turkeys by enemy soldiers wielding superior technology.

It felt like molten lava was coursing through his chest—frustration, sadness, and rage swirling together, making his eyes sting with unshed tears.

'Kill the monkeys.'

Chijiwa could almost hear Bardot, the commander aboard the Gran Ideal, mocking them across the battlefield.

'This isn’t war. It’s a monkey hunt. Let’s show these Eastern monkeys the greatness of humanity.'

The heat in his throat surged upward. It felt as though flames would burst from his mouth, his insides boiling with fury.

He needed someone to unleash this unnameable emotion upon.

Where was the enemy?

His bloodshot eyes scanned the surrounding sky.

What had been clear skies just moments ago were now covered in fire and smoke, reducing visibility to around 3,000 meters.

The dark, ash-coloured smoke, along with the fire, sparks, and iron fragments from the explosions, created a thick fog over the sea, making it difficult to see even his own comrades. The thirty or so Shinden that had survived the interception, including Sugino, Matsuda, Kannonji, and Mido, were now separated from each other by the dense smoke and flames.

“Damn it.”

Cursing under his breath, Chijiwa broke through the dark clouds and began climbing. The enemy interception squadron, with nearly 200 planes, would be returning soon, and he wanted to secure a favourable altitude before they arrived.

At 6,700 meters, Chijiwa levelled off.

Below, the anti-aircraft fire from the circular formation continued. Not a single enemy ship had been hit. None of the bombs or torpedoes had been dropped on the enemy, and the formation remained unscathed, firing its crimson barrage into the sky. The VT fuses exploded just before reaching their targets, creating what looked like fireworks. The water columns rising in the sea were all that was left of the Rensei and Tensui squadrons.

It was a sight that burned itself into his brain, scorching it with frustration. He felt like he might actually cry blood.

"I'll avenge them. I swear I will."

Swearing to avenge the Rensei and Tensui planes falling helplessly into the sea, Chijiwa searched the sky for an enemy.

And then—

"Nu…!!"

From the direction of the central formation, where the Gran Ideal was stationed, Chijiwa saw a group of enemy fighters rushing straight toward him. Narrowing his eyes to focus, he counted about 15 planes—likely the direct air cover squadron that had stayed behind. They must have been delayed, but now they were here, ready to hunt down any retreating Imperial planes.

For once in this battle, the Shinden outnumbered the enemy by two to one.

It was the perfect chance to vent all the pent-up frustration from this cursed battle.

Chijiwa licked the blood at the corner of his mouth. Gripping the controls tighter, he opened the throttle. The enemy was at 5,500 meters. He had the advantage of altitude by about 1,000 meters, allowing him to dive on them from above.

The lingering smoke and fire would obscure his approach. Carefully weaving through the clouds, Chijiwa closed the distance on the enemy formation.

From the shape of their planes, he could tell they were all Aires IV. The enemy still hadn’t noticed them.

When the distance between them dropped to less than 1,000 meters, Chijiwa suddenly reversed his direction, diving from above in a near-inverted attack.

His target was the lead plane of the enemy formation.

Taking out the leader would throw the enemy’s formation into disarray.

The Aires IV's silhouette loomed larger as he closed in. An attack from above gave him a large target to aim for, making this the ideal approach.

──Got you.

Certain of his aim, Chijiwa pulled the trigger for the 13mm machine guns.

A line of fiery tracers shot out from his plane’s fuselage, stretching toward the enemy.

In that instant—

The lead plane jumped out of the line of fire.

"!?“

Descending past the nose of the enemy formation, Chijiwa quickly darted his gaze to the side.

The enemy formation leader, like a master swordsman deflecting a blow with flawless footwork, evaded Chijiwa’s perfect shot with a sharp, sudden roll.

A chill ran through him.

—This guy.

One exchange was enough to gauge the enemy’s skill.

—Could it be…you?

Fear pierced through his spine.

Incredibly, his teeth chattered.

For a moment, he had been completely overwhelmed. Before he realized it, smoke from the anti-aircraft guns had surrounded him. Even looking up, he could only see fragments of the enemy formation.

Shaking his head left and right, Chijiwa forced himself to regain his composure.

"Calm down."

He muttered to himself. This was a critical air battle that would decide the course of the war. Just encountering a pilot with remarkable skill wasn’t a reason to lose his focus and court death.

"Take him down."

He steeled himself, gripping the control stick and banking sharply.

The sound of thirty of his allies’ propellers grew louder. He couldn’t see them from his position, but it was clear that his side had engaged with the enemy’s cover squad. If he hesitated, the formation leader might be shot down by Kannonji or Mido.

“I’ll be the one to take him down.”

With his black wings slicing through the air, Chijiwa plunged into the heart of the chaotic battle.

The air was already filled with dogfights as Imperial and enemy aircraft tangled with each other.

Some circled behind their adversaries, entering vertical dogfights, while others engaged in loops and tight turns. The entire sky was consumed by deadly engagements, the kind of dramatic duels that fighter pilots lived for.

The roar of propellers surged and dipped, their eerie harmonics layering over each other, weaving an ominous melody. Below, the wakes of 160 warships trailed behind, while the falling Imperial and Royal aircraft splashed into the sea, sending up countless pillars of water. Only the strongest would survive in this merciless sky, where the bittersweet trails of smoke would bloom and fall, crashing down into the ocean below.

Chijiwa’s bloodshot eyes locked onto the Aires IV formation.

Every single one of those planes was incredibly formidable. As expected from the elite guard of the Bardo Carrier Fleet’s flagship, they were far stronger than the Nexus Air Squadron. Even though his side had the advantage of numbers, the Shinden squad was struggling.

—Where did the formation leader go?

Without a doubt, the strongest one was the leader from earlier. Chijiwa searched the tangle of friend and foe, trying to pick him out, but with no distinguishing marks, he couldn’t tell who was who.

Suddenly, an Aires IV below and to the right of Chijiwa’s position had its wings torn off, spiralling down. Passing through where the enemy had been was Mido’s plane. The veteran was calmly picking off targets amid the chaos, taking down enemy aircraft one by one.

Right before Mido, a Shinden fell, engulfed in flames. An Aires IV broke through the smoke, pulling up sharply.

Mido immediately latched onto its tail. Likely seeking to avenge the downed ally, he pursued the Aires IV, which went full throttle to escape.

Mido closed in. Using over boost, he was nearly in range. At the perfect moment, Mido fired a full volley. But the enemy pilot performed a deft, aggravatingly precise roll, dodging the attack.

Mido and the enemy locked into a horizontal dogfight. In terms of turning capability, the Shinden had the upper hand. It was only a matter of time before Mido would get on the Aires IV’s tail after two or three rotations.

Watching the sequence of movements from the sidelines, Chijiwa let out a sigh of relief.

Just as he was about to turn and pursue another target—

Mido’s plane exploded into fragments.

"—What?"

The Aires IV that had been chased burst through the fiery explosion, flying through the air where Mido’s plane had just been.

It was as if the pilot were saying that taking down an opponent of that caliber was only natural, gliding elegantly, confidently.

“What…?”

Mido’s plane was gone, not even a trace left behind.

There wasn’t even time for a farewell.

They had known each other since their training days.

A dear friend. Someone who had beaten Chijiwa countless times in mock aerial battles, with superior skill.

And now, right before his eyes, Mido had lost a real fight against an Aires IV.

—What just happened?

Chijiwa couldn’t comprehend the situation. What he barely understood was that Mido had lost a turning fight.

Despite having superior turning ability, Mido was defeated by the Aires IV. Which meant…Mido’s aerial combat skill was inferior to that of the enemy pilot.

"What do you mean?"

Chijiwa’s gaze turned toward the sky. He almost expected Mido to appear with a calm face, saying, "I just let my guard down." But there was only the wreckage of Mido’s plane, drifting through the air.

—Mido is dead.

—Shot down by an enemy fighter.

It was unbelievable.

One of the Imperial Army’s top five aces, killed in an aerial duel. Losing to a superior aircraft could be accepted, but to be defeated in skilful aerial combat was a humiliation no Imperial pilot could endure.

—If there was a man capable of shooting down Mido among the enemy forces…

—That man is…

What snapped Chijiwa out of his daze was the sight of a Shinden shooting upward at incredible speed.

“Kannonji…!”

Kannonji had witnessed Mido’s demise.

The usually easy-going man was now showing raw fury in his movements, pushing his plane into over boost.

Ahead of Kannonji’s plane was an Aires IV.

The Aires IV, pursued relentlessly by Kannonji, desperately tried to shake him off, but Kannonji refused to let go, his flying intense and aggressive.

That must be the plane that took down Mido. As soon as Chijiwa realized it, he, too, began to chase the enemy.

Kannonji was pressing hard, but the enemy pilot was flying with breathtaking skill, trying to shake off his pursuer.

The manoeuvres made it clear that this was no ordinary pilot. It was the same enemy formation leader who had evaded Chijiwa’s first shot and had taken down Mido.

The enemy formation leader increased speed.

Kannonji leaned forward in pursuit.

Just as Kannonji was about to fire his 30mm cannons, the enemy leader pulled into a loop.

The loop was slightly off-centre, indicating a less-than-perfect manoeuvre.

Without hesitation, Kannonji followed.

Tracing the path of the loop.

Seeing this, Chijiwa’s mind stiffened.

A cold spear pierced through his body.

—That manoeuvre…

—It’s the one from back then…

At that moment, Chijiwa’s soul screamed from within.

“Don’t follow, Kannonji!!”

His bloodcurdling cry went unheard in the chaos of the battlefield.

The enemy leader reached the apex of the loop.

Kannonji closed in, moving into the kill zone.

Chijiwa pushed his throttle to the limit. He prayed he would make it in time, shouting words that would never reach their target.

“It’s a trap!!”

Through the canopy, Chijiwa saw the enemy leader, inverted, twist their plane.

It was a manoeuvre that created a vacuum in the sky.

A move that only Chijiwa, among all pilots, had ever performed.

Wearing a grim, determined expression that replaced his usual easy-going smile, Kannonji pursued the enemy.

His heart was a tangled mess. If he could cry, he would have long since screamed until his throat tore apart. He thought he had become numb to the harshness of the battlefield, but the pain that tore through his soul now defied description.

—Mido.

—I will avenge you.

For nine years, they had flown through the sky together as comrades. Side by side, they had competed and honed their skills.

And now, his dearest friend had just been shot down in a turning fight, right before his eyes.

Before the sorrow could take hold, he had to shoot down the enemy who had killed Mido.

Fuelled by rage, Kannonji pursued. The enemy thrashed about, trying to break free, but Kannonji focused every ounce of his skill and will into staying locked onto them.

The enemy began a clumsy, angled loop.

An imperfect loop.

—Got you.

Kannonji was sure he could catch him at the loop’s peak. He followed the enemy’s path without hesitation.

Through the swirling smoke, he ascended. Through the canopy, the enemy’s plane grew larger.

Kannonji looked through his gunsight. The enemy was just about to transition into an inverted flight, their belly now exposed.

Right before the enemy fully rolled over to look at the sky—

Kannonji placed his finger on the trigger of his 30mm cannon.

The Aires IV’s silhouette filled his gunsight.

He was at point-blank range. He didn’t even need the sight.

Just as Kannonji moved to pull the trigger—

The Aires IV vanished.

The 30mm explosive rounds that should have struck their target shredded through empty air.

“!?”

Kannonji’s eyes and mouth flew open in shock.

He had missed. At point-blank range, he had missed.

He couldn’t comprehend the manoeuvre the enemy had just executed.

—No.

—I know this technique.

Unbelievable as it seemed.

This was a move that only Chijiwa, among the Imperial forces, could perform.

If the enemy had indeed just executed that technique, then…

Kannonji shifted his gaze to his right, glancing over his shoulder.

The four 20mm cannons of the Aires IV were aimed directly at Kannonji’s right side.

It was point-blank range. There was no chance of evading.

In his final moment, Kannonji muttered the name of the technique the enemy had just used.

“The Left Twist Ismael Turn.”

The next instant—

Kannonji’s body was torn apart by 20mm rounds.

Tracer rounds, armour-piercing shells, explosive rounds, incendiary bullets—all tore through his plane, turning Kannonji’s aircraft into a shredded, burning wreck.

Through the canopy, Chijiwa saw the fireball that Kannonji’s plane had become.

The enemy formation leader, having completed the left twist, soared through the explosion of Kannonji’s aircraft, ascending triumphantly toward the heavens.

“Ooooooooh!!”

Chijiwa’s howl was that of a beast.

Over boosting, his Shinden’s black wings tore through the sky.

There was only one target in his sights.

The enemy who had shot down both Mido and Kannonji.

There was no longer any doubt as to who that pilot was.

The Ismael Turn he had just witnessed revealed everything.

The man beloved by the sky.

The only one who had ever beaten Chijiwa in the air.

I’ve chased you across countless battlefields.

There is no one else on this earth who could have shot down my two closest comrades.

“Sea Gull!!”

"Finally, I’ve caught up."

"Now, it's just a matter of bringing you down."

He was solely focused on one thing—taking down the Seagull.

"Don’t run! Fight me!!"

Chijiwa’s voice was so loud it felt as if it would tear his vocal cords apart.

There was no time to cry. Grieving could come later. First, he would avenge Mido and Kannonji. After that, he would allow himself to wallow in sorrow. He would scream his grief for his fallen comrades to the sea.

With bloodshot eyes, he glared at the retreating form of the Seagull, climbing higher into the heavens.

The Aires IV had superior climbing ability. The Shinden couldn’t keep up. The Seagull seemed to mock Chijiwa as it ascended higher and higher into the sky.

Clouds spread ahead, covering the sky.

It was as if the sky itself was trying to hide the Seagull from view, obstructing Chijiwa’s path.

"Move! Get out of my way!"

Chijiwa was consumed by a feverish rage. He turned all of the emotions flooding his chest into a burning will to fight.

5,000 meters, 5,500, 6,000, 6,500. He continued his ascent, pursuing the Seagull relentlessly.

Suddenly, another Aires IV dove down from above to attack.

He hadn’t noticed it in his field of view. In a split second, Chijiwa twisted his aircraft.

A barrage of bullets from the Aires IV skimmed dangerously close to his plane. It was a near-fatal attack. The Seagull wasn’t the only skilled pilot; the entire Gran Ideal squadron was full of aces.

"Stay out of my way...!"

But Chijiwa’s selfish wish wasn’t granted.

The enemy pilot had noticed the Beagle insignia on his aircraft. Instead of retreating, the ace pilots were now flocking to take down the infamous Demon Dog. Despite Chijiwa’s gritted teeth, if he focused solely on the Seagull, he would be the one shot down.

"Out of my way, you underlings!"

With a sudden reversal, Chijiwa broke off and entered a vertical dogfight.

After just two spins, he got behind the enemy and swiftly cut them down in a single strike.

But the enemies didn’t relent. From above and from both sides, they courageously rushed at him.

"Don’t get cocky, you small fry!"

Chijiwa tried to shake them off. But the enemies wouldn’t back down. Every plane that spotted the Beagle insignia was now targeting him.

—Where’s the Seagull?

He searched the enemy planes, hoping to spot the Seagull among them, but without any distinguishing marks, there was no way to tell who the Seagull was without engaging in combat.

"Put some markings on yourself, too!"

He shouted his selfish desire, then rapidly turned and descended into a cloudbank hovering at 4,000 meters.

His vision went pitch-black as he entered the cloud. He listened closely, flying within the darkness for a while before finally emerging on the other side.

The enemy planes were still pursuing him. His allies noticed and rushed to his aid.

Three Shinden fighters latched onto the Aires that had been chasing Chijiwa, quickly engaging in dogfights. The skill and performance of the aircraft were about the same, but now the Shinden squadron outnumbered them.

An Aires IV fell, followed by a Shinden. It was a fierce struggle of attrition. This wasn’t the sky where the Shinden once reigned supreme. The Aires IV now surpassed the Shinden in performance. The Imperial pilots were relying on their skill to overcome the disparity in their machines—it was that kind of battle now.

“Seagull…”

His groan was swallowed up by the roar of the Aires IV propellers.

He couldn’t see his target. The clouds, the smoke, and the enemy planes seemed to conspire together, concealing the Seagull from view.

He couldn’t touch the tail feathers of his prey.

“Damn…”

Chijiwa strained to hear.

He tried to listen to the sky.

But there was no answer. This sky was now completely under the Seagull’s spell. It didn’t even offer Chijiwa a sympathetic glance, instead keeping its gaze fixed on the Seagull alone.

His molars ground together with a sharp squeal.

The overlapping heat of various emotions turned into a flame behind his eyes.

“Don’t run! Fight me…!!”

What answered his prayer was the sound of even more propellers.

"…!?"

The western sky was clouded.

Like columns of gnats, a swarm of specks rose toward the heavens.

At altitudes of 8,000, 5,000, and 2,000 meters, formations of Aires IV planes packed the air.

The Royal Army’s interception squadron had returned, having fended off the Imperial Army’s air superiority team. There were roughly 180 enemy planes.

By now, 80% of the Imperial bombers and torpedo bombers had been shot down by VT fuses, and there was nothing left for Chijiwa and the Shinden squadron to do.

Matsuda’s plane flew past Chijiwa, pointing toward the massive enemy formation and signalling for a retreat. The remaining twenty or so Shinden pilots, upon seeing the interception squadron’s return, immediately turned tail and fled. There was no longer any chance of victory in this area. With no bombers or torpedo planes left to defend, retreat was the only logical choice for any experienced pilot.

But Chijiwa’s blazing eyes remained fixed on the enemy formation.

Was the Seagull in there? Could he be waiting for a one-on-one duel with me?

These thoughts twisted inside his mind.

Matsuda and Sugino flew to Chijiwa’s sides, urging him to retreat.

His wingmen were calling out for their squad leader to stay calm.

“…Damn it.”

Losing your composure meant death.

Chijiwa had always preached this to Sugino and Matsuda. Now, that same lesson was echoing back to him.

—Calm down.

—Challenging the Seagull now would be reckless.

—For the sake of Mido and Kannonji, you have to survive.

Finally, the voice of the sky reached him, advising him to live.

Chijiwa bowed his head, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly and deeply.

With hands still gripping the controls in frustration, he banked his plane and retreated into the clouds.

Sugino and Matsuda followed suit. If they flew through this thick cloud layer, they would be able to shake off the interception squadron’s pursuit.

—I'm sorry, Mido. Kannonji.

—I’ll get your revenge. I’ll be the one to bring down the Seagull.

—From now on, you’ll fly with me.

He called out to his fallen comrades in his heart.

As he fled through the clouds, the tangled mess of his emotions finally gave way to sadness and loneliness.

The thick cumulonimbus clouds helped guide the Shinden squadron back.

They entered one cloud, pierced through it, then dove into another, shaking off the enemy pursuit.

Because of the ongoing naval battle, they couldn’t expect any radar navigation assistance. Using it would reveal the location of their mothership, not only to their allies but to the enemy as well. Chijiwa had to rely on the silhouette of Est Miranda Island visible to his left to navigate back to the carrier.

Spotting the landmark of Cape Roro, which he had memorized before take-off, Chijiwa adjusted his heading to the southeast. He knew that if he kept flying, they would reach the Unkaku safely. Fortunately, thanks to the long-range attack they had launched, there was no worry of an enemy assault on the friendly carrier fleet. The sun was still high, and they could regroup and prepare for a second strike later. The showdown with the Seagull could wait until then.

With that resolve, something caught Chijiwa’s eye.

—Black smoke?

The sky ahead of his Shinden was dark with soot.

Rising smoke from the sea below stained the belly of the bright white clouds.

—No way.

Chijiwa descended to 3,000 meters and looked down at the ocean.

The source of the smoke was the burning Imperial fleet, including the aircraft carriers of the Hachigami Mobile Fleet.

Battleships, light and heavy cruisers, and destroyers, all arranged in circular formation, were frantically circling the crippled carriers.

It was hard to understand what was happening.

There hadn’t been an attack from the enemy’s mobile fleet. And yet, of the six main carriers, four were spewing black smoke, with some listing so badly they seemed beyond repair, while others were starting to sink near the bow.

“...!?”

Looking at the erratic movements of the surrounding ships, it was clear that they were desperately searching for something. The carriers were running for their lives, while the destroyers were frantically trying to protect them. The sea was boiling, and occasionally, water columns shot up near the destroyers. Depth charges were being dropped into the sea.

At that moment—

Suddenly, two white lines streaked across the surface of the water.

The lines moved swiftly toward the fleet’s flagship, Boufu, where Admiral Hachigami was aboard.

The Boufu tried to evade, but it had already been hit by torpedoes and was limping along.

The white lines closed in on the Bofu’s side, and the moment they struck, two massive water columns erupted.

The Bofu’s massive hull tilted. Planes on the deck slid into the ocean. Smoke billowed from below the bridge, where a fire had broken out.

Chijiwa finally realized what was attacking the Hachigami fleet.

A massive submarine force had surrounded them.

Though the Imperial destroyers were scouring the sea, there were far too many submarines to handle. To make matters worse, few destroyers were equipped with the lifting devices needed to cross the great waves. For the Imperial forces, aircraft carriers and battleships were the priority, with destroyers coming last in the budget. Building flying warships required a massive development cost, and there simply wasn’t enough financial leeway in the Imperial coffers to fund destroyers as well.

Even with the air above protected by the Shinden, an attack from the sea hadn’t been seriously anticipated. The enemy had exploited that gap perfectly.

The Imperial doctrine was that only a mobile fleet could defeat another mobile fleet. Naval battles between carriers were meant to be decided by aircraft alone. The Imperial Navy had assumed that air power would settle things and had foolishly relied on that assumption when they engaged in battle.

Bardot had refused to meet them on their chosen battlefield.

Mocking their rigid thinking, Bardot’s forces had launched a massive, silent attack from underwater, without ever using air power. It didn’t matter how strong the Shinden squadron was or how skilled the pilots were.

“This is…”

Chijiwa looked down and groaned. But with his fuel running low, he needed to land on the Unkaku soon. Weaving between the burning friendly carriers, he began searching for his own ship.

The devastation was staggering.

In the context of traditional naval warfare, submarines had always been seen as a tool for commerce raiding, a humble role, often looked down upon by the crews of carriers and battleships. Now, however, submarines had become the main actors in this battle.

Four of the Empire’s prized carriers were in flames. They had no means of defending themselves against submarine attacks and had been repeatedly struck by torpedoes. It was only a matter of time before they sank. Who could have imagined that the damage from submarines would be this catastrophic? It was clear that Hachigami’s fleet had been outmanoeuvred by Bardot.

Amidst this disaster, Chijiwa’s carrier, Unkaku, was somehow still afloat, managing to ascend to 1,000 meters. It must have been a desperate attempt, as all the other carriers were still stuck on the water’s surface.

As Chijiwa, Sugino, and Matsuda landed on the deck of the Unkaku, the mechanics rushed to greet them, setting up ladders and celebrating their safe return.

"Lieutenant! Thank goodness you’re safe!"

Seeing the mechanics, faces black with soot, sobbing in relief, Chijiwa realized that they were the first of the air superiority team to make it back. In the command centre on the bridge, the flight commander and aviation staff, overcome with emotion, welcomed them back as well.

"We were attacked by a massive submarine force. Our Unkaku managed to take off, but the other carriers were hit just as they began lifting off, and they’ve suffered tremendous damage."

"The enemy had stationary targets to shoot at. The Unkaku was lucky. We were far too lax in our anti-submarine patrols..."

The flight commander spoke with a heavy heart.

Because the Unkaku was a flying warship, once it took off, it was safe from submarine attacks. But in order to ascend, the ship had to remain stationary while engaging the lifting devices. That made it an ideal target for the submarines during battle. This weakness had been fully exploited in the current battle. The only carriers left unscathed were the Unkaku and its sister ship, Manazuru. The Manazuru had given up on taking off entirely, opting to flee across the sea, leaving behind a complex wake, and miraculously escaping without a scratch.

Looking at the pale faces of the aviation staff, Chijiwa reported on the status of the aerial battle.

He spoke of the coordinated interception, the threefold enemy air force, the anti-aircraft barrage set by VT fuses that awaited them after breaching the enemy’s perimeter... The more he explained, the more the faces of the staff darkened.

Their aerial attacks had been completely thwarted, and the enemy’s assault had come not from the air, but from the depths of the sea.

There was nothing they could do.

Feeling the weight of despair around him, Chijiwa impulsively offered a suggestion.

"Could the three of us launch a second strike?"

The aviation staff looked at him with puzzled expressions.

"We can equip our Shinden with 250-kilogram bombs and attack the enemy carriers. Our fighters can get through the net that our bombers and torpedo planes cannot."

"But you won’t be able to fight if you’re carrying bombs."

"We don’t need to engage the enemy planes. We’ll fly just above the surface to avoid radar detection. If we can approach their carriers, we’ll win."

"Even if you reach the carriers, you’ll still have to evade the VT-fused anti-aircraft fire to hit them with the bombs. Do you think you can do that?"

"It’ll have to be a surprise attack. We’ll approach undetected and drop the bombs before they can fire at us. Let us give it a try."

"But... at this point, even if three Shinden fighters attack, it won’t achieve much. Keeping Unkaku in the combat zone just to retrieve you would be necessary, but it is too dangerous. We should not take such a risk."

Sugino stepped forward resolutely.

"At least let us fire one more shot! If we end things like this, the souls of the fallen will never find peace!"

Even Matsuda, uncharacteristically, sided with his wingman.

"If it’s just the three of us, we can break through to the Gran Ideal. Even if the damage we inflict is minimal, there is meaning in breaking their interception system here and now."

The aviation officers exchanged glances. Chijiwa pleaded earnestly.

"We must provoke Bardot, enrage him. The meaning of this attack lies in disrupting the enemy commander’s rational thinking."

One of the staff officers climbed the stairs to the bridge, going to request permission from the captain for the attack. After several tense minutes, the officer returned, accompanied by Unkaku's captain, Commander Miyoshi.

"Go. Show Bardot the pride of the Amatsu people."

A jolt of energy ran through the spines of the three members of Chijiwa's squad. Their backs straightened instinctively as Commander Miyoshi, with a stern expression, addressed them.

"Unkaku will remain here waiting for your return. You are not permitted to die."

"Yes, sir!"

Chijiwa’s squad saluted in unison.

The three Shinden were lined up on the aft deck of Unkaku as mechanics rushed over to attach the 250-kilogram bombs. The work took about ten minutes to complete.

While waiting, Chijiwa retreated to the waiting area, received paper and a brush from one of the mechanics, and hastily scribbled something onto a sheet before placing it into a communication tube.

"A paper bomb," he remarked briefly to the puzzled looks from Sugino and Matsuda.

"Mido and Kannonji are dead. It was the Seagull who brought them down."

Both wingmen nodded solemnly.

"Let’s go. This is their memorial battle."

With resolute eyes, Chijiwa gazed into the distance toward the Gran Ideal, where Bardot resided.

"Yes, sir!"

Sugino and Matsuda followed closely behind Chijiwa. Their pride as the strongest Imperial fighter squadron would not allow them to return without striking back.

"We'll attack at dusk. We’ll have to use the twilight to our advantage. Follow my every move until the end."

"Yes, sir!"

"You are not allowed to die. Survival is the top priority. If we’re attacked by enemy planes on the way, drop the bombs immediately. Understood?"

"...Yes, sir."

Chijiwa climbed into his beloved aircraft.

The mechanics finished attaching the bombs and gave him a thumbs-up from the cockpit.

The propellers on the tail of the three bomb-equipped Shinden roared to life.

They accelerated with over boost, rolling down the runway.

Both senior officers and remaining pilots waved their hats to send off Chijiwa’s squad.

With a final salute, Chijiwa pulled back on the control stick.

The wheels lifted from the deck, and the demon dogs, each carrying a 250-kilogram bomb in its belly, soared into the air.

Below, the familiar sight of Unkaku grew smaller. Even now, the crew on deck was likely still waving their hats, watching them ascend. Those men, too, were risking their lives, remaining in the combat zone, waiting for Chijiwa’s return.

Not just for Mido and Kannonji.

But also for the captain who approved their mission, the aviation staff, the flight commander, and the crew of Unkaku.

They would evade the enemy’s radar detection, shake off nearly two hundred interceptors, break through the VT-fused anti-aircraft defences, and strike the bombs onto the Gran Ideal.

—Wait for me, Bardot.

—I’ll show you that the Amatsu people are no monkeys.

"Try to stop me, Seagull."

He opened the throttle. With Sugino and Matsuda on either side, Chijiwa descended to fifty meters, aiming his aircraft toward the area where the enemy fleet was patrolling the sea.

With the bombs loaded, the Shinden's speed, turning, and climbing abilities were far below their usual performance. Fighters were agile because they were light, but with a 250-kilogram weight strapped to its belly, it couldn’t compete against more nimble foes. If they had to engage with the Aires IV in this state, even Chijiwa wouldn’t be able to win or escape. If they jettisoned the bombs and entered dogfights, they might survive, but that would mean losing the chance to damage the Gran Ideal.

The key was to avoid being spotted until they reached the Royal Army's cross-shaped formation. If they were picked up by radar or visually spotted by enemy planes, it was over. Chijiwa’s squad needed to conduct an extremely difficult stealth operation.

The three planes flew as close together as possible, maintaining an altitude of fifty meters.

As they approached the waters patrolled by enemy picket destroyers, Chijiwa began lowering their altitude further. To avoid radar detection, they had to fly as low as possible. However, flying in a tight formation at such low altitude placed immense stress on the pilots. They focused every bit of concentration, keeping an eye on each other and the ocean surface while occasionally catching glimpses of Est Miranda Island in the corner of their right eyes as they flew at 550 kilometres per hour.

It was now 4:20 PM. The cloud cover had increased since the morning. While clouds wouldn’t hide them from radar, having them was better than not. Even if they were spotted by enemy planes, the clouds would provide some cover.

Flying at just twenty meters, they were crawling across the sea like soldiers creeping forward in a prone position. Doing everything to avoid being detected, Chijiwa concealed himself behind the waves, inching closer and closer to the enemy fleet.

He kept a wary eye on the skies above. The closer they got to the enemy fleet, the higher the chance they would be detected by radar. The best way to evade radar detection was to hide in the perfect "shelter."

And there it was.

A sly grin tugged at the corner of Chijiwa’s mouth.

Scanning the surrounding airspace and confirming the position of the clouds, Chijiwa pulled back on the control stick. He concealed himself behind the cover of clouds, relying on the instincts and experience he had honed through years of aerial combat, climbing swiftly to 4,000 meters to get a look at his "shelter."

It was a formation of thirty Aires IV interceptors.

This was likely a detachment of the original 200-plane squadron they had encountered earlier. After wiping out the Imperial air superiority team, they had split into smaller groups, hunting down any stragglers. Perhaps they were planning to ambush the returning Imperial attack squadrons, having witnessed the destructive power of the VT-fused anti-aircraft guns. From their confident posture, it was clear they were looking forward to bragging about their "monkey hunt" among their comrades.

Chijiwa’s squad quietly tailed them.

Always keeping the sun at their backs, staying just far enough to be detected by the enemy radar as "part of the Royal Army’s air force," they skilfully shadowed the enemy formation like a cunning fox.

—These idiots will lead us straight to the Gran Ideal.

With a devilish grin on his face, Chijiwa kept his guard up, stealthily and expertly blending into the formation like a remora attaching itself to the school of Aires IV planes.

Eventually—

A sinister smile spread across Chijiwa’s face.

"Thanks for the escort, you fools."

Ahead of the Aires IV formation, a brilliant cross-shaped flower bloomed on the sea surface.

It was Bardot’s mobile fleet. A perfect cross-shaped formation with destroyers arranged in a 2.5-kilometer radius around the central carriers, their anti-aircraft guns pointed skyward.

Dusk had fallen. It was the time of day when spotting enemies or allies became difficult. Chijiwa had the golden evening sun at his back. As long as the enemy radar continued to misidentify him as a Royal Army plane, all he had to do was fool their eyes. It was precisely because there were only three of them conducting this stealth mission that they were able to slip through unnoticed.

The Aires IV formation that had led them there began to descend, preparing to land on one of the outer perimeter carriers, a medium-sized escort carrier. They could drop their bombs on that escort carrier right then and there, but that wouldn’t be as satisfying. Their real target was Bardot’s flagship, the Gran Ideal. They wanted to hit him where it hurt.

Staying hidden in the clouds, peeking out from time to time like glancing through the folds of a blanket, Chijiwa assessed the surrounding airspace.

It seemed most of the enemy's attention was on recovering their own planes. Above each of the five formations, planes were circling, waiting for their turn to land. The largest and densest swirl of aircraft was in the centre formation, marking Bardot’s main fleet, with the Gran Ideal at its core.

Confirming his target, Chijiwa carefully closed in. The abundance of clouds in this area was a gift from the heavens. Perhaps the Imperial pilots who had perished earlier in this battle were now lending their support. With cover provided by the large clouds flowing high and low through the sky, Chijiwa managed to blend into the vortex of enemy planes.

Below him lay the imposing figure of the Gran Ideal.

Calmly recovering its squadrons, basking in the triumph of the day. He could see enemy pilots landing on the deck, pumping their fists in victory as they joined their comrades in celebrating and boasting about their number of kills.

Somewhere in that crowd, the Seagull was likely among them.

Perhaps bragging to his comrades about how he took down Mido and Kannonji.

Just the thought of it made Chijiwa want to pull the trigger on his machine guns.

He wanted to attack right away, but he held back. The enemy's attention was fully focused on the deck, and they had no idea that a Shinden was lurking right above them. Holding his nerve, he continued to fly confidently, blending in with the Royal Army's movements, waiting for the right moment.

The sun began to sink toward the horizon, casting a fiery red glow across the sky.

The western sky was stained with a deep crimson, as if it were the blood of all the Imperial pilots who had died in this battle. Their regret was palpable in Chijiwa’s chest.

—Mido. Kannonji. Watch over me.

Chijiwa prayed. Praying as he gripped the control stick, waiting for the right moment.

Before the sun fully set, all the landing operations were completed.

The darkening blue of the sky descended, caught by the lingering red of the sunset in the west. Along the horizon, a fiery red burned like a wildfire, illuminating the night below.

The time was ripe.

—Now.

Emerging from the clouds, they suddenly initiated a descent from 4,000 meters. The 250-kilogram bomb strapped beneath them accelerated the process more than usual.

The target, the Gran Ideal, was about 5,000 meters away in horizontal distance.

The night’s colours descending from the zenith helped conceal the silhouette of Shinden’s jet-black form.

A line of destroyers equipped with anti-aircraft guns approached. If they were caught by the VT fuses, it would all be over.

"Please, don't notice us," he prayed.

With the propeller noise now impossible to hide, Chijiwa dove at a 40-degree angle from windward. His two wingmen followed his descent line.

Ahead, beyond the windscreen, the massive silhouette of the Gran Ideal loomed, rising from the blood-red surface of the sea. Bardot was there. The Seagull was there. It was time to deliver retribution to those who had buried so many of his allies.

The night was protecting them. The enemy still mistook Shinden for a friendly aircraft. Let them remain in their post-victory celebrations. Let them believe that there were no more Imperial aircraft in this sky.

As they neared the point where they could be seen by the naked eye from the enemy ship, Chijiwa performed a meaningful bank, flickering the formation lights on both wings in a random rhythm. It was a signal that meant nothing, but if it caused the enemy's anti-aircraft gunners to hesitate to pull the trigger, it would be enough.

With a silent prayer, Chijiwa’s squadron flew over the destroyer fleet.

"If we had radios, I would have sent a message saying, 'We have successfully ambushed the enemy.'"

He muttered the words to himself as he looked into the bombing sight. The massive deck of the enemy's flagship filled the crosshairs, so large it spilled over the edges. There were no enemy interceptors in sight, and the anti-aircraft fire had not yet bloomed into a deadly ring.

He licked his lips. At this point, they could do whatever they wanted to the massive enemy aircraft carrier. It was an exhilarating sensation that he could never experience in air-to-air combat with fighter planes.

The target was the forward lift.

It was the elevator used to raise aircraft from the hangar to the upper deck. Destroying it would render the carrier’s combat power nearly useless.

It had been a year since he last practiced bombing with a fighter-bomber, but his body still remembered the movements.

The distance to the target closed to 800 meters. His hand moved to the bomb release lever.

Seven hundred, six hundred. The enemy’s silhouette grew larger in the sight. The upper deck was still lined with Aires IVs, and pilots and mechanics were staring up at him with bewildered expressions.

At five hundred meters, the enemy finally realized that Chijiwa’s squadron was hostile. Chijiwa, with great satisfaction, watched as the Imperial soldiers on the deck scrambled to flee.

At four hundred meters, now within a distance that guaranteed a hit, he yanked the bomb release lever with a devilish grin. Instantly, the aircraft felt lighter.

The 250-kilogram bomb crashed into the forward lift of the Gran Ideal, and at the same moment, Chijiwa pulled the nose of Shinden up at an altitude of 10 meters.

A massive pillar of fire erupted. It was almost as if he could hear the screams of the enemy crew.

As he ascended, Chijiwa looked back. First Sugino, then Matsuda, dropped their bombs in quick succession. Since they had followed Chijiwa’s descent line, their hits were also guaranteed.

Second and third spears drove into the wound Chijiwa had opened.

Explosion after explosion followed. The hangar was surely engulfed in flames by now.

As he climbed back into the sky, Chijiwa looked down at the burning Gran Ideal, laughing scornfully.

He was in a triumphant mood. The thick pillar of fire rising from the dark ocean showed that take-offs and landings would be impossible for a while. The enemy was flustered, doing nothing but running around in confusion. The surrounding destroyers couldn’t locate Shinden in the night, and the aircraft carrier, without anti-aircraft guns of its own, could do nothing but take the beating.

He wanted to stomp on them even more.

Such a thought bloomed deep in Chijiwa’s chest.

Unable to suppress the urge, he led Sugino and Matsuda in another turn, aiming for the airspace directly above the Gran Ideal once more.

The only armament mounted on the Gran Ideal was a 15 cm gun turret, the same as those on heavy cruisers. The carrier had not been designed with anti-aircraft defence in mind but with naval gun battles in mind. With its interceptors grounded, the Gran Ideal was helpless against Chijiwa’s squadron.

To further mock Bardot, Chijiwa deliberately circled the bridge before lowering his altitude and opening the canopy.

He then tossed a communication tube onto the deck.

It bounced off a barricade filled with cushioning materials between the frenzied, fire-fighting crew and came to a stop.

“Are you watching, Seagull?”

Chijiwa murmured as he looked down at the crew of the Gran Ideal. He confirmed that Sugino and Matsuda were flying at his sides, neither too close nor too far. The sight awakened a mischievous impulse within him.

Extending a hand out from the open canopy, he signalled with his fingers.

He spun his finger in a circle, then held up three fingers.

Sugino’s eyes widened with excitement, while Matsuda twisted his mouth into a troubled frown.

With a sly grin, Chijiwa gave Matsuda a look, and Matsuda reluctantly nodded.

“Let’s go. Three times.”

He opened the throttle, gaining speed.

Chijiwa’s squadron climbed into the indigo sky. The remnants of the western sunset dyed their jet-black forms a blood-red, standing out in the twilight.

On the third floor of the Gran Ideal’s bridge, the fleet command centre:

The full smile that had adorned Bardot’s face earlier had vanished entirely.

All that remained now was rage.

His face wrinkled up like a bulldog, as he glared up at the enemy aircraft performing acrobatics right above his great carrier.

An aviation officer, holding the telephone connected to a neighbouring ship, informed Bardot.

“They report that the anti-aircraft guns are ready. Should we fire?”

Bardot, after a moment of silence, responded without turning toward the officer.

“They should have fired two minutes ago.”

“…Understood.”

“Don’t fire a single shot. Let this humiliation burn into their guts. Make sure they don’t make the same mistake again. Relay that message to every ship in the ring formation.”

“…Yes, sir.”

After having the order relayed to all the ships, Bardot gazed up into the night.

“...Impressive.”

The three aircraft of Shinden executed a perfect loop over the Gran Ideal.

Dodging radar detection and the threat of VT fuses, they had bombed the Gran Ideal flawlessly. Now, as if to rub it in, the three aircraft performed a formation loop above the enemy carrier.

They could be shot down at any moment if the VT fuses were activated.

But Bardot had no intention of doing so.

He decided it was best to let the entire crew of the Bardot Mobile Fleet experience this humiliation. Moreover, Bardot had noticed the artwork painted on the nose of the lead aircraft.

"That’s the Demon Dog, isn't it?"

The flight deck crew, pilots, and mechanics stood stunned, watching the aerial display.

"Damn monkeys."

He muttered with seething hatred just as a flight officer entered the command centre, accompanied by a translator.

In the officer’s hand was the communication tube that the Demon Dog had dropped.

“There was a letter inside, written in the Amatsukami language. I’ll translate it.”

The translator pulled the letter from the communication tube and began reading it aloud in front of Bardot.

"To the commander of the Gran Ideal Air Squadron. Well done today. The ones you shot down were my friends. Next time, I will make sure you know it's me by painting the Seagull’s symbol. It feels wrong to leave this at one win and one loss. Let’s settle this once and for all with one of us dead. Second Lieutenant Chijiwa Takeo, Special Operations Officer of the Unkaku Air Squadron."

A crazed grin spread across Bardot’s face.

"A challenge from the Demon Dog to the Seagull."

"It appears so. He doesn't seem to understand the difference between modern warfare and knightly duels."

Colonel Ramon’s comment was met with a strained reply from Bardot.

“How amusing. That Samurai pilot dreams of a battlefield where the bravest warriors from both sides step forward to settle things.”

The Demon Dog entered a third massive loop.

The Imperial forces still hadn’t fired a single anti-aircraft shell. Disrupting this aerial display would be discourteous by a knight’s standards. Everyone silently watched the perfectly synchronized, iron-solid formation manoeuvres, a feat only possible from a squadron that had survived countless aerial battles together.

Bardot’s lips twitched into a crooked smile.

“Are you watching, Seagull? The Demon Dog is mocking you right before your eyes.”

The third vertical loop over the Gran Ideal ended.

The Demon Dog, having completed its performance, flew off into the night, as if saluting the proud Imperial forces who had behaved as knights.

Watching their retreating figures, Bardot’s face contorted into a fearsome grin.

“Demon Dog, I’ll grant you your wish. I’ll prepare the perfect stage for you. Carve your Samurai soul into this cursed battlefield.”

Bardot couldn’t tell if his thoughts were rational or insane, but he knew that he was responding to the madness carried by the Demon Dog. Despite receiving such humiliation from the one he had mocked as a monkey, he felt exhilarated. Perhaps, despite basing his strategies around an overwhelming superiority of steel machines, some part of him still yearned for the romanticism of an ancient battlefield.

He had never seen such a beautiful formation loop before.

Three Shinden aircraft drew a flawless vertical circle in the sky.

In a normal air show, he would applaud the display so vigorously his hands would hurt.

But now—

Standing on the upper deck of the burning Gran Ideal, observing the frenzied firefighting efforts of the crew, the only thing burning in the young man’s chest was pure determination.

Looking up, he saw the three Shinden executing their loops in the deep indigo sky. The vast sky was the ballroom of the Demon Dog.

His entire body was covered in goosebumps.

Finally, he had encountered the "sworn enemy" he had been seeking in the sky all this time.

He had never forgotten. Every time he flew, he searched for Beagle among the enemy planes.

No one loved the sky more than he did. The thought of losing in the sky was unbearable.

The one and only opponent who had defeated him in a head-on fight.

Even the second encounter had not been his victory. Back then, he was only saved by the quick thinking of his "pair" in the backseat, and in terms of a proper fight, he had lost. The only time someone had ever broken his perfectly executed Ismael Turn was that single instance.

He wanted another chance.

He wanted to face Beagle in a fighter again.

That desire alone had brought the young man back to the battlefield sky.

And now, right before his eyes, the long-awaited enemy was dancing. Moreover, the ballroom Beagle had chosen was directly over the Gran Ideal, the ship Bardot had publicly declared would not be touched. The enemy's courage and cunning were impressive, even commendable.

He wanted to risk everything.

Without interference from anyone.

He wanted a one-on-one duel with that great pilot.

"I wonder if you know, Beagle," the young man said, sending his words into the sky where they wouldn’t reach.

"You are my admiration."

He had fought many pilots, but the only one he had ever admired was Beagle. In their direct confrontation, he realized that Beagle surpassed him in every skill. And more than anything, from their two clashes, Beagle’s determination to never lose in the sky had been conveyed to him through the very air they flew in.

The three Shinden planes finished their loop and waved their wings as they flew away. All the young man could do was watch them go. His clenched fist almost seemed to bleed from the force.

"I want to shoot you down."

He wanted to defeat Beagle head-on, precisely because he respected him more than anyone else. It was a natural desire for someone who lived in the sky.

Just then, someone called out his name.

Not his real name. It was the false name given to him upon re-joining the ranks. He still felt a sense of discomfort whenever he was called by it, and sometimes didn’t respond. When he turned, Colonel Ramon was there with a difficult expression on his face.

"The Commander Bardot wants to speak with you directly."

"…?"

"A love letter has arrived. From the Demon Dog to the Seagull."

A shiver ran down the Seagull’s spine. When he was escorted to the bridge command centre, he found Commander Bardot with a complex expression mixing frustration, bitterness, and amusement.

"We can't just let those monkeys have their way forever," Bardot growled.

A staff officer beside him explained the contents of the letter dropped by the Demon Dog to the Seagull.

The Seagull was familiar with the contents. During today's aerial battle, he had encountered three extraordinarily tough Shinden aircraft. He had managed to shoot down two of them through secret techniques, but their side was so exhausted that they had to flee from the third. Although he hadn't confirmed the nose art, that third one had to be Beagle.

One of the staff officers asked, "Can you manage a night-time take-off and landing on the carrier?"

"No problem."

"And night-time single-plane oversea navigation?"

"If you emit longwave signals on my return, I’ll have no issue."

"Hm," Colonel Ramon nodded confidently, and Bardot's cheek lifted in a smirk.

"Deliver a reply to the enemy carrier. Just you."

"…"

"I’ve already written the letter for you, using your codename."

The Seagull accepted the reckless order without hesitation.

Later, Chijiwa and his wingmen, Sugino and Matsuda, safely landed on the deck of the Unkaku and headed to the air command post to report.

After reporting their success to the senior officers waiting for them, everyone’s eyes widened in astonishment. Then Captain Miyoshi himself addressed the three members of Chijiwa’s squadron.

"You’ve broken through the enemy's interception system and delivered three direct hits to the enemy fleet's flagship. A magnificent achievement. I'm sure even the fallen soldiers are somewhat satisfied. Though we've lost this sea battle, thanks to you, we have glimpsed a ray of hope. You are the gods of war. I am proud to have encountered pilots like you."

There could be no greater praise. Chijiwa and his men stood tall as they received the words.

Sugino and Matsuda received the wine and dried provisions offered, and the three returned to the deck of the Unkaku. Without their superior officers around, Matsuda smiled.

"It was a good call not to report the challenge and the formation loop."

"…Yeah."

"I was secretly worried you might mention it, Lieutenant."

"…I’m learning to navigate these things."

If they had boasted about it unnecessarily, even with their achievements, they would have been scolded for treating the battlefield like a child's playground.

"…A lot happened today," Sugino said quietly, gazing out over the ocean.

The Unkaku was now flying at an altitude of 1,000 meters to avoid submarines. Below, four of the Imperial Navy’s regular carriers were about to sink into the ocean. They had given up on continuing Operation Ho and were preparing for scuttling. To prevent the enemy from capturing the hulls, they would sink the ships themselves.

Soon, the friendly destroyers fired torpedoes, and the four regular carriers erupted in massive water columns before sinking into the depths.

The three of them silently watched the sinking silhouettes. Some ships went down bow first, while others raised both their bow and stern, dragging a melancholic metallic groan with them as they spiralled into the sea. The once-proud carriers of the invincible Eight Gods Mobile Fleet were swallowed by the ocean one by one.

After the whirlpools subsided, the sea returned to its usual calm.

Chijiwa could already see the future direction of the war.

"This war is lost."

They had lost four of their six prized regular carriers. But that wasn’t the fatal blow.

The real tragedy was the loss of nearly all their skilled pilots in the Battle of Est Miranda.

Their fighter pilots had been wiped out by enemy radar detection, and the veterans of the bomber and torpedo squadrons had been shot down by VT fuses. In the Imperial system, which required 1,000 hours to train a single pilot, this was a loss too great to recover from. From now on, the Imperial Air Force would be staffed by inexperienced pilots with little training time. And the once-invincible Shinden aircraft were no longer what they had been at the start of the war. Now, in terms of piloting skills, aircraft performance, and sheer numbers, the Imperial forces had surpassed them. In future battles, their casualties would only increase.

At that moment...

He heard an unfamiliar propeller sound in the night.

“…Hm?”

He exchanged glances with his wingmen. They recognized the heavy, familiar hum—it was the sound of an Aires IV propeller.

Judging from the sound, it was a single aircraft.

Blending into the darkness, it approached as if it could see the Unkaku.

In that instant, a sense of foreboding made Chijiwa's hair stand on end.

He stared into the night. The moon, hidden behind the clouds, peeked out, and in the starry light, he saw a pale gray silhouette approaching.

The crew of the Unkaku also noticed the anomaly but were too stunned to respond immediately.

Just like Chijiwa had done earlier to the Gran Ideal, the Aires IV leisurely approached the deck of the Unkaku and dropped a communication tube from the cockpit. The tube bounced twice on the deck before hitting the rear deck's safety net and coming to a stop.

“Bring it to me.”

Chijiwa ran over to the mechanic who suspiciously picked up the communication tube. Overhead, the audacious Aires IV began looping over the carrier as if tracing Chijiwa’s movements.

Its course was perfect. The graceful flight path conveyed the skill of the pilot.

“Seagull…!”

Chijiwa didn’t need to see who it was to know. This was likely a playful retaliation for what his squadron had done earlier to the Gran Ideal.

“Fire—!”

The gunnery chief's shout tore through the night.

In an instant, the Unkaku’s heavy anti-aircraft guns roared, unleashing relentless fire on the insolent Aires IV.

"You idiot! Don't shoot!!"

Chijiwa yelled, but the Imperial forces didn’t understand humour like the Royal forces. They were furious at being mocked and fired off a grand display of anti-aircraft fire.

The Seagull mockingly flew through the barrage with ease, looping once more before disappearing, its wings waving farewell. The anti-aircraft guns of the Unkaku futilely chased its retreating form.

An hour later, Chijiwa received the translation of the letter that had been in the communication tube from the aviation staff.

“To the Demon Dog of Sion Island.

We thoroughly enjoyed your challenge and formation loop earlier. As you requested, I will paint the Seagull’s symbol and come to meet you. Please inform your squadron that our duel is not to be interfered with. One win and one loss doesn’t sit well with me either. Let’s settle this once and for all with one of our deaths.

Gran Ideal Air Squadron Commander ‘Seagull’.”

It was unmistakably a reply to his love letter. They had risked their lives to deliver their true feelings to each other.

The Seagull wanted to settle the score in a one-on-one duel. That realization alone filled Chijiwa with indescribable joy.

He was questioned about the challenge and formation loop by the senior officers and was scolded harshly when he told them the truth, but his heart continued to race with excitement.

"The Seagull has answered."

"The next time we meet, we’ll duel."

"The winner will be the one who survives, and the loser will die."

"Simple. It's the ultimate match."

Standing alone on the upper deck, staring at the sky where the Seagull had disappeared, Chijiwa eagerly awaited the moment.

Bathed in the light of the moon and stars, his thoughts burned with anticipation. He drank with the survivors of the Unkaku Air Squadron, flying through the sky of defeat. The Unkaku was heading toward Awashima’s Daidoarai stronghold to regroup the Combined Fleet.

As he sipped his drink, the images of the temple and Kannon shrine flitted across his mind.

They had always been prepared to die in this sky. They had sworn to keep flying until their lives ended. From now on, he would fly the battlefields of the sky with their souls alongside him.

Even if Amatsukami lost this war...

"I will never lose in aerial combat."

"Wait for me, Seagull."

"I’ll be the one to shoot you down into the sea."

As he made this lonely vow, the sky above him glittered with countless stars.

For some reason, he suddenly had an urge to hear Yuki’s song.

Chapter 4: The Seagull

Two aircraft trailed long streaks of pale gray and white as they plummeted into the sea off the coast of Saint Helena.

The twin columns of water rising from the southern sea marked the graves of the Shinden planes. The ripples spread across the ocean surface, distorting it for a time before the sea returned to its tranquil state, as if nothing had ever disturbed it.

Only the sky remained noisy.

Chijiwa weaved between the falling Shinden planes, taking position at the rear of the enemy bomber formation, just above them.

These were enemy planes that had already carried out a bombing raid on Sechihara Base and were now fleeing. With movements he had repeated hundreds of times, Chijiwa closed in on the enemy and unleashed a burst of thirty-millimetre machine gun fire in a flash. The rounds pierced through the bomber’s thick armour, and an explosion followed in the cockpit. The enemy aircraft disintegrated into fine black dust, sending new ripples across the sea off Saint Helena.

The day’s total came to three kills. All were bombers that had already dropped their payloads.

The voice of Squadron Leader Hasami crackled through the radio speakers.

"No more combat. Return to base."

The retreating enemy aircraft were still in sight, but Chijiwa mechanically pushed the control stick forward. After circling around, he spotted the outline of Sion Island. The black smoke rising from around Sechihara Base had become all too familiar. He wondered what the damage was today. He silently hoped the runways hadn’t been littered with time bombs.

Returning to the first airfield at Sechihara, he realized his wish had not been granted.

A “landing prohibited” sign had been erected on the runway. As they passed overhead, he saw countless black spheres scattered across the runway and near the airfield facilities.

He clicked his tongue. The ground crew glanced nervously from the bombs to Chijiwa’s squadron.

The black spheres were time bombs dropped by the enemy bombers. They could explode in thirty minutes, an hour, or even twenty-four hours. It was an annoying type of bomb, meant to impose a persistent danger on the side left to clean them up.

However, regardless of how dangerous they were, the bombs had to be removed for a landing to be possible. With the Shinden’s dwindling power reserves, delaying too long would result in a crash. After a few nerve-wracking minutes of waiting, three ground crew members with white sashes across their chests appeared, carrying iron tongs and bamboo baskets, and began retrieving the bombs. Cautiously, as if they were picking up chestnuts, the men collected all the bombs into the baskets, sprinted toward the coconut grove, and hurled the baskets deep into the trees. Fortunately, all three men survived, and they ran back to their comrades in tears.

Thanks to their life-risking efforts, Chijiwa managed to land safely on the pockmarked runway and reported the day’s results to the command centre. The command post, where Commander Shirase and the famed aviation strategists of the Soundless Air Corps awaited, was now nothing more than a shack with a single corrugated metal roof. The former concrete two-story command centre was long gone, and the brilliant sunlight now shone directly onto the dust-covered uniforms of the staff officers.

It was May, in the year 3212 of the Imperial Calendar.

Two years and four months had passed since the start of the war.

In the six months since the Battle of Est Miranda, the situation had changed drastically.

"...Good work. We lost three planes," one of the aviation strategists said grimly to Chijiwa after his report. All the downed planes were flown by inexperienced pilots, who had been sent to Sechihara Base less than a month ago and had logged fewer than five hundred flight hours.

"Excuse me."

Chijiwa saluted and left the command centre. Time bombs were still scattered along the side of the runway, making it perilous to walk. In the past, when the war was less desperate, he might have gone back to the barracks to drink after his sortie, but now, instead of returning to the barracks, his destination was the pilots' waiting area. The situation was so dire that the waiting area had become their de facto living quarters.

Deep within the coconut grove, a shabby, raised wooden hut had been erected.

Palm leaves were laid across the corrugated roof, and there were no partitions or walls—everything inside was visible from the outside. On the raised floor, pilots lounged about, and torn clothes hung on the railings to dry. This was both the living quarters and workplace of the proud Soundless Air Corps' fighter unit.

Now, even the officers’ waiting areas were no different from those of the non-commissioned officers. Chijiwa and Hasami sat down together on the dirt-covered floor, cross-legged.

“Replenishing the ranks is just sending people to die. This is not a sky where newcomers can survive,” Hasami spat. Chijiwa listened silently. Nearby, Matsuda spoke up.

“It seems to me that maintaining Sechihara Base is becoming increasingly difficult…”

“…”

“With the enemy’s growing numbers and our mounting losses, with no way to resupply, it seems logical to retreat and engage the enemy closer to the homeland.”

Normally, such a statement from a non-commissioned officer would have enraged an officer, but Hasami, after a moment of contemplation, answered seriously.

“They're broadcasting back home that the Soundless Air Corps' efforts are holding off the enemy's counterattack. Retreat is not an option. It’s our duty to defend Sion Island until every last member of the Soundless Air Corps is wiped out. It may sound merciless, but bear with it.”

“…Understood.”

“Our stand here will connect to a better future for Amatsukami in fifty or even one hundred years. We’re the bulwark holding back the enemy’s onslaught, and by continuing to hold that line, we’ll change the future for the better. Believe in that.”

“…Yes, sir.”

Sugino and Matsuda could only nod in agreement. The only motivation left to continue this gruelling fight was found in Hasami’s explanation. No other reason could serve as the fundamental force driving them to continue risking their lives in battle.

Chijiwa lay down on his back, using his hands as a pillow, listening to their conversation.

Chijiwa had only one reason for continuing to fight.

—To shoot down the Seagull.

It had been about six months since they exchanged letters.

He hadn’t seen him since. The Bardot Fleet had been ignoring Sion Island, occasionally training off the coast of Est Miranda, likely awaiting the launch of their next major operation. For Chijiwa, the wait had become tiresome.

—Until I meet the Seagull again, I cannot die.

Surviving—that was Chijiwa’s current personal goal.

The three men who died today had been fired up about being assigned to the front lines and, ignoring the veterans’ warnings, had launched a direct attack on the two-hundred-strong formation escorted by Aires IV fighters. Though he understood their eagerness to prevent the bombing, such attacks were nothing more than futile deaths that failed to harm the enemy. It was better to let them bomb the base and then chase them down to inflict losses. Even a scratch on the enemy was better than letting them go unharmed, as it would at least impose some psychological burden on them.

Given the current situation, that was the only way to hurt the enemy. The absurd orders from the high command to “hold Sechihara Base at all costs” were so disconnected from reality that the pilots could only reconcile them with reality by flying, fighting, and shooting down enemy planes.

Of course, even that wasn’t an easy task.

The western seas were now dominated by enemy submarines, which were freely sinking Imperial transport ships carrying personnel, food, and ammunition. Even in the best of times, reaching Sion Island from the homeland required airships equipped with auxiliary lift devices to cross the massive Eastern Maelstrom, and those precious airships were being sunk as soon as they arrived in the western seas. Now, it had become a rarity for supply ships to reach Sion Island at all, and food shortages had worsened drastically. Even the highly favoured pilots had been eating nothing but sweet potatoes for the past two months. It was depressing to imagine what the ground crew and mechanics were subsisting on.

With no food, no reinforcements, and fewer operational aircraft by the day, the situation was dire. At its peak, Sechihara Base had over two hundred operational aircraft and more than a hundred reserve fighter planes. Now, only about twenty aircraft remained operational, with zero reserve planes.

Moreover—

The pilots were at the breaking point from the constant daily air raids by the enemy.

For the past six months, they hadn’t had a single day of rest.

Every day, they were jolted awake by the frantic ringing of alarm bells, scrambled to their operational aircraft, launched into battle, engaged in aerial combat, and then returned. Air combat had become routine. No one bothered counting flight hours anymore, and no one cared about their kill counts. Chijiwa had likely surpassed two hundred kills, but even that didn’t matter to him. The mental strain was that severe.

—I want to hear Yuki’s song.

The last vestiges of Chijiwa’s humanity clung to that longing. The phonograph had been destroyed in a bombing raid, and he hadn’t been able to listen to Mizumori Misora’s records for three months. The lack of music had left his heart parched. In this miserable battlefield, the only solace Chijiwa had was Misora’s songs.

—Though I’ll never see Yuki again.

Two years had passed since that scenic flight with her. Her letters had ceased, and she had likely found someone better suited for her by now, just as he had asked her to.

Something that pierced his chest reminded him that he was still human.

Despite all the time he had spent flying over this battlefield and killing over two hundred enemy pilots, some small part of him still harboured his emotions. Chijiwa was surprised that he could still feel anything at all, especially since thoughts of Yuki had become more frequent.

—What is this?

He couldn’t understand his own heart. He couldn’t control it. Perhaps it was the price of immersing himself in the madness of war for so long.

He had heard that prolonged flying could impair one’s cognitive abilities. This was probably a symptom of that. At this critical juncture, he had no time to be thinking about a woman. He told himself this, trying to force Yuki’s smiling face out of his mind.

In this distant, foreign sky, fighting and fighting until he met the Seagull again, he would survive without dying.

That was all there was to it.

At that moment, the frantic ringing of alarm bells shattered his drowsiness.

“…Again?”

Clicking his tongue, he opened his eyes, heavy with sleep.

“Enemy attack! Enemy attack!” “Move it, move it!!”

The voices echoed through the waiting area. The pilots, who had been sprawled out, sluggishly rose to their feet. Chijiwa grimaced as he stood, feeling the pain in his stiff, exhausted muscles.

“Another afternoon raid, huh?”

“Two attacks in a day is rough. The enemy knows exactly how to push our buttons.”

Usually, it was just the "regular morning service," the routine bombing raid, but occasionally, the bombers would make an appearance in the afternoon too. For those who had been sent into battle without rest for the past six months, two sorties in a day was unbearable. But no matter how exhausting it was, if the fighter unit didn’t intercept, Sechihara Base would be left completely defenceless. Even if they couldn’t mount a meaningful defence, they had to at least shoot down one or two planes.

Chijiwa, his two wingmen, and Hasami rushed out of the waiting area toward the runway. Other pilots, with grim determination, headed for their planes. None of them were unscathed. Everyone had been wounded somewhere, and they were all suffering from hunger, malaria, or aviation neurosis, yet none of them hesitated to scramble. Despite not receiving adequate rest, despite being starved, despite knowing that this war couldn’t be won, none of them ever considered giving up air combat. For the sake of their fallen comrades, if nothing else, they would not lose in the skies. That stubborn pride and willpower were all that sustained the members of the Soundless Air Corps.

The situation had only worsened with time.

The Soundless Air Corps pilots were losing members one by one, and the waiting area grew emptier by the day. The comrade who had washed his face beside you in the morning would be gone by evening. The capacity for feeling grief was wearing thin.

In the early days of the war, when a comrade was lost, the survivors mourned deeply. If a well-loved pilot was killed, they would even hold a wake in the barracks. They would vow to fight on in the name of their fallen comrades.

But now, the deaths of comrades had become too commonplace.

After two and a half years of war, hearing of the death of a fellow pilot no longer elicited more than a nod of acknowledgment.

It wasn’t that they didn’t feel sadness anymore. It was just that they had become numb to it.

Every day, death surrounded them.

Living in a constant state of mourning, their entire lives consumed by grief and suffering.

Sorrow and pain had become the norm, and their comrades’ deaths were buried within that norm.

Losing their capacity to feel grief also meant losing the ability to feel joy. It seemed that once you chipped away at one emotion, the others fell away too. For months, none of them had laughed or felt even a moment of peace.

Each day, they fought off waves of enemy attacks, shooting down planes and watching comrades fall, eating barely anything, and sleeping in the waiting area. When the alarm bells rang, they jumped up, boarded their Shindens, and took to the skies they had flown in hundreds of times before.

Chijiwa, like all the fighter pilots, was suffering from a mild to severe case of aviation neurosis.

The cockpit of the Shinden lacked any form of pressure regulation, and the pilots were constantly exposed to sudden changes in pressure and temperature, along with the stress of five to six Gs. Over time, the tiny capillaries in their skin could no longer maintain a healthy state, and their nervous systems began to suffer. When the brain’s nerves were affected, it could lead to memory loss, drowsiness, or trigger strange behaviours, often resulting in accidents.

Chijiwa’s eyes had grown dark and clouded, his complexion pale and gaunt, with his cheekbones protruding and his mouth twitching in light spasms. Rapid climbs and descents left him breathless, and sharp pains shot through his temples. It was clearly a case of aviation neurosis, but he couldn’t afford to stop fighting. Despite the pounding headaches, Chijiwa continued to sortie day after day. And he wasn’t the only one suffering—every member of the Soundless Air Corps was afflicted with the same symptoms. All of them, fighting through injuries and fatigue without a single day of rest, without adequate food, enduring the brutal strain of aerial combat.

—Why do we fight?

—Because we are Amatsukami, not monkeys.

The thought that kept them going was simple.

It was their pride—as a people, as a race, as humans—that prevented them from giving up the fight.

—We will show the Levamme what the soul of Amatsukami is.

By this point, that was all that mattered. The deaths of enemies, comrades, even their own—none of it held any significance anymore.

At dusk, in the waiting area, Hasami, with a grin on his face, looked around at the group and spoke up.

“I heard something funny when interrogating a prisoner from the Nexus Air Squadron.”

The twenty or so men lounging around gave him weary, indifferent stares.

“They call Sechihara Base ‘The Dragon’s Lair.’ Word is, if you fly over to bomb it, you’ll be attacked by a dragon and never come back.”

A soft chuckle escaped from the pilots. From their perspective, the two hundred-strong enemy formations that attacked every day seemed much more like dragons.

“The message they sent back from Guardia Base to their homeland says, ‘The Soundless Air Corps still has nearly a thousand planes, and capturing the base is impossible. Send more reinforcements.’ Apparently, they think we still have a thousand pilots.”

Hasami burst into a hearty laugh. It was clearly an attempt to cheer up his men. A light ripple of laughter spread among the exhausted pilots.

“A thousand planes, huh? We’ve got barely over ten operational aircraft, and there’s only twenty of us left.”

“They’ve confused our efforts with the strength of a thousand planes. That’s something to be proud of. What we’re doing every day isn’t meaningless.”

Sugino smiled at Chijiwa.

“If they think we’ve got a hundred times more Shinden than we actually do, it means each of us is worth a hundred men! That makes me happy—it means I’ve gotten that much stronger, right?!”

Chijiwa smiled bitterly.

“You’ve shot down nearly sixty planes yourself.”

“I stopped counting halfway through, so I’m not sure!”

Sugino laughed with a mix of defiance and pride, while Matsuda quietly smiled beside him. Sugino and Matsuda, who had been teenage novices at the start of the war, were now seasoned veterans.

“You’re strong. We’re all strong. We don’t lose in the sky…”

Chijiwa spoke the words to reassure them, though their confidence was easily shaken in this battlefield.

“Chijiwa. Sugino. Matsuda. Come with me to the command post.”

Hasami, who had been boosting the group’s spirits, approached and said this suddenly.

A feeling of foreboding stirred in Chijiwa’s chest. He had been given this order enough times to know what kind of news was coming, just by the way Hasami acted.

“…Are we being transferred?”

Hasami’s slight change in expression was all the answer Chijiwa needed.

Nightfall was creeping over Sechihara Airfield.

The command post was only a two-minute walk from the waiting area. Inside the bleak building, with nothing but a corrugated roof, Commander Shirase and two aviation strategists awaited.

“Hasami and three others, reporting for duty!”

The four stood at attention and saluted in a line before the commander. The officers returned the salute, and one of the strategists began delivering orders.

“Second Lieutenant Hasami Shinichi, Second Lieutenant Chijiwa Takeo, First Class Airman Sugino Heisuke, and First Class Airman Matsuda Taiichi. Effective immediately, you are reassigned to the Unkaku Air Squadron!”

“……Understood!!”

Just as expected, they were being transferred to the Unkaku. Another sea battle awaited them.

But where?

“You will board a Type 7 airship immediately. Your destination is the Eastern Sea. Do not stop at the Trevas Atoll. The airship will refuel using hydrogen batteries over the sea, then proceed to Iyojima. Your final destination is Awashima.”

They swallowed hard as they listened to the travel instructions.

Normally, they would fly Shindens from Trevas Atoll to Iyojima, refuel, and then head to Awashima. But this time, they were to travel by airship.

The reason became clear when Commander Shirase explained.

“The Trevas Atoll is currently under heavy attack by the Bardot Mobile Fleet and is on the verge of falling. Mitobaru Base is too small to withstand the onslaught and will likely fall within a week. Bardot’s forces have bypassed Sion Island and launched an assault on the Trevas Atoll instead.”

“…Does that mean they’re not planning to engage the Soundless Air Corps?”

Chijiwa asked, and Commander Shirase nodded.

“It seems they’ve overestimated the size of the Soundless Air Corps by more than a hundredfold. While that’s a testament to how extraordinary your efforts have been, it also means they’ve given up on attacking us. Why waste time trying to capture the ‘Dragon’s Lair,’ when they can take Trevas Atoll and establish a foothold in the Eastern Sea?”

A collective sigh escaped from Chijiwa and the others. It was hard to tell if it was a sigh of disappointment or relief.

Sechihara Base had been effectively isolated.

If they lost Trevas Atoll, resupply would become even more difficult. They would have to rely on self-sufficiency for food, and they wouldn’t be able to get new planes or reinforcements. It would become a quiet, lonely place, abandoned by both enemies and allies alike.

“But we can’t let pilots of your caliber sit idle. The enemy is preparing to invade Awashima. A decisive battle will likely take place there soon. When it happens, you will fight as members of the Unkaku Air Squadron. It will be the greatest battle in the three-thousand-year history of Amatsukami. The future of our nation rests on your shoulders. I’m counting on you.”

“Understood…!!”

The four saluted Commander Shirase.

This would likely be their final farewell to the esteemed Commander Shirase. Chijiwa had a feeling in his chest that they wouldn’t see each other again.

—So, this is goodbye to Sechihara as well.

He was certain of it. If the Trevas Atoll fell, the strategic significance of Sechihara Base would be gone. Until the end of the war, no frontline pilots would return to this island.

The four of them left the command post together. Since the Type 7 airship was a seaplane, the embarkation point was the sea. They returned to the waiting area to gather their belongings. Chijiwa only packed a single record of Mizumori Misora into a cloth bag. He left behind the certificate of merit and military sword he had received for his achievements during the Battle of Est Miranda—those were things he no longer needed for the journey ahead.

They informed their comrades of their transfer orders, but didn’t go into details. Their fellow pilots, having fought alongside them for so long, sensed something ominous but didn’t pry. They simply promised to meet again and left the waiting area.

Looking up, they saw a sky full of stars.

The Southern Cross, which they had gazed upon many times, shone brilliantly tonight as well.

“…We probably won’t be coming back to Sechihara, will we?” Sugino said quietly, sounding melancholy. Memories of the countless aerial battles they had fought here over the past year and a few months with their fallen comrades flooded his mind.

Hasami responded, “Hold your head high. Our battles will be remembered by future generations.”

In their hearts, they all shared the same sense of accomplishment—they had defended Sion Island to the end, never losing in aerial combat. Sechihara had not fallen.

For six months, day after day, sometimes facing two massive bombing raids a day, the Soundless Air Corps, with only about twenty pilots, had valiantly held the line and defended this base. Despite being outnumbered by formations of over two hundred enemy planes, the battered Shindens—worn down with peeling paint and riddled with holes—had been mistaken for a fleet of a thousand planes, and the enemy, terrified of the “Dragon’s Lair,” had given up trying to capture the base.

If that wasn’t a miracle, what was?

The story of the Soundless Air Corps would surely go down in the history books of Amatsukami, a legendary feat future generations would honour and revere. The skies had been defended by the great samurai of the sky.

So, hold your head high.

Sugino and Matsuda told themselves as much.

"Leave the sentiment for later... Let's go. This time, we’ll win," Chijiwa said shortly to his two wingmen. Carrying their meagre belongings, they walked toward the pier as if taking a casual stroll. They swallowed their feelings of sorrow and silently followed Chijiwa.

The Type 7 airship was waiting for them offshore.

It was a massive seaplane with a squat, whale-like fuselage and long wings. They boarded a small boat to reach it and then entered the fuselage. In addition to the four fighter pilots from the Soundless Air Corps, there were ten other pilots selected from the carrier-based bomber and torpedo squadrons. After taking in all fourteen pilots, the Type 7 airship gracefully lifted off, offering a sweeping view of Victoria Bay below.

Through the round windows, Sion Island grew smaller and smaller until it eventually disappeared from sight.

The airship took a wide detour around the Trevas Atoll, crossing the vast Maelstrom in the middle of the night. After landing on the water to recharge the hydrogen batteries, it took off again, heading straight for Iyojima without stopping to rest.

They arrived at Iyojima around noon and joined another Type 7 airship. This one was also carrying pilots selected from the Iyojima Air Squadron. After a quick lunch, both giant seaplanes set off for Awashima.

Thanks to the navigators aboard, they were able to fly over the open ocean at night using instruments. Two days after leaving Sion Island, they arrived at Daidoarai Stronghold.

There were a few large ships in the harbor. Lights from the fleet blinked in the twilight over the sea, but compared to the time of the Battle of Est Miranda six months ago, there were clearly fewer ships.

“I heard the fleet sent to reinforce Trevas Atoll was heavily damaged,” one of the pilots whispered.

“We just can’t win at sea against the Bardot Fleet. They block all our attacks, and we have no way to counter their overwhelming numbers…”

The pilots exchanged rumours. Since the Battle of Est Miranda, there hadn’t been a single report of a naval victory, making these rumours all too believable. It was clear now that the Imperial Navy could no longer match the Bardot Fleet in a head-on confrontation. The enemy outperformed them in terms of aircraft, numbers, pilot training, and reconnaissance capabilities.

If there was any hope, it was that the next battle off Awashima would take place in the Eastern Sea, giving them a potential advantage.

The Bardot Fleet would have to cross the Maelstrom, making it impossible to bring their submarines. The battle would likely be decided by air combat alone.

And if that was the case, then surely—

—I’ll meet the Seagull.

Chijiwa’s heart surged with anticipation at the thought.

They disembarked from the Type 7 airship by boat and stepped onto the pier at Daidoarai Stronghold.

That night, they were shown to their lodgings, where a simple feast was held in a large room on the second floor. They ate their fill of white rice and miso soup, meals they hadn’t had the luxury of enjoying back in Sechihara. They felt a bit guilty about their comrades left behind at Sechihara, but the Amatsukami cuisine was so delicious that they forgot themselves in the moment.

The next morning, they were driven to the airfield.

Through the windows, they saw a peaceful cityscape. Two-story wooden buildings with tiled roofs—shops, inns, and boarding houses—lined the narrow streets, almost leaning over them. The people walking around were smiling, and the children seemed healthy and full of energy.

It was already July. The southern sun bleached the alleys white, and the sound of cicadas could be heard from the trees along the streets.

Upon arriving at Daidoarai Airfield, they made their introductions and headed for the hangar. Having left their beloved Shindens behind at Sechihara, they would now have to get acquainted with new planes.

The hangar doors opened.

Bathed in sunlight, the Imperial Army’s newest fighter, the Shinden Kai, awaited them silently.

After two and a half years of war and countless refinements, the successor to the Shinden had finally arrived.

Chijiwa walked toward his new partner.

The jet-black body gleamed. From the front, the twin wings curved into a W-shape. The long legs, tail propeller, and the machine-gun ports cut into the fuselage. Other than the sleeker shape of the rear cowling, it didn’t look much different from the previous model at first glance.

The major upgrades were in the hydrogen battery stack, the DC motor, and the communications equipment.

The domestically produced motor they had been using, known as the Tatae, had become outdated compared to the Aires series of engines. The urgent need for a more powerful motor led to the development of the new Itadaki motor, now housed in the tail section of the Shinden Kai.

“The maximum speed, climb rate, high-altitude performance, armament, and range all surpass the original Shinden.”

The mechanic proudly explained as Chijiwa silently nodded, inspecting the plane before climbing into the cockpit.

The instrument panel wasn’t much different from the old Shinden. The main difference was the addition of a radio telephone.

“With this, you’ll be able to communicate directly with friendly aircraft and carrier communication rooms. This is the biggest improvement.”

Chijiwa picked up the radio and, following the mechanic’s instructions, tuned it to communicate with the airfield’s control room. Up until now, only the squadron leader had been able to issue verbal commands to his subordinates. But from now on, all pilots would be able to communicate with each other via radio.

The armament consisted of two 30mm machine guns and four 15mm machine guns, all mounted in the fuselage. The 15mm guns, with their lower recoil, were especially useful against single-seat fighters, making this an appreciated upgrade.

“Can we fly now?” Chijiwa asked.

“Yes.”

Hasami, Matsuda, and Sugino each climbed into their planes, and they all taxied onto the runway at Daidoarai Airfield.

It was impossible to know how much time they would have to familiarize themselves with their new planes before the upcoming naval battle, so each flight was critical in getting a feel for their new partners.

Chijiwa was the first to take off.

The controls felt almost identical to the old Shinden, but the power of the new Itadaki motor was substantial. Even without gaining much speed, the motor alone propelled the plane upward with incredible force.

In no time, he had climbed to 6,000 meters. Looking down at Awashima below, he tested various aerial manoeuvres.

"Impressive," he muttered with admiration. Quick turns, vertical loops, stalls, barrel rolls—the plane handled almost identically to the old Shinden, though with some differences. With the increased power and upgraded communications, the Shinden Kai was a remarkable improvement. The responsiveness of the controls conveyed the passion of the designers who had built it.

—This plane moves like an extension of my body.

Chijiwa had fallen in love with the Shinden because of its exceptional handling. Every movement he envisioned was immediately translated into action, almost perfectly replicating what he had in mind. It was the same sense of unity that ancient cavalrymen had strived for, man and horse moving as one.

“I can beat the Aires IV.”

A smile formed on his face. With no disadvantage in engine power, the battle would come down to the pilot’s skill. In a one-on-one fight, he wouldn’t lose.

He donned his oxygen mask and activated the over boost.

The Shinden Kai climbed even higher.

7,000 meters, 8,000, 9,000.

The plane didn’t lose its agility. With the old Shinden, the engine would start to struggle at altitudes above 8,000 meters, making it difficult to catch up with high-altitude enemy bombers, but the Shinden Kai had no such problem.

Reaching 9,500 meters, he suddenly flipped the plane and dove.

The altimeter needle dropped rapidly.

A 2,000-meter dive. The sea stretched far below beyond the windscreen. The control stick became so heavy that even leaning his entire weight against it barely moved it. The plane vibrated. The wings rippled. But Chijiwa’s instincts told him the plane’s structural limits were still far off.

Still, there was no need to push it too far. He gritted his teeth, summoning all his strength, and pulled up. The wings flexed, and the nose began to rise.

The sea and sky separated before him.

And then, only the sky remained.

As he raced upward into the infinite blue, Chijiwa couldn’t suppress his elation.

“Wait for me, Seagull.”

The thrill of combat surged through his body, and he expressed his joy with a sharp barrel roll as he ascended.

“Let’s settle this.”

It had been two years since their last duel.

Chijiwa could feel that the long-awaited rematch was now close at hand.

It was going to be the hottest summer since the war began.

And as he felt the powerful heartbeat of the Shinden Kai, Chijiwa was certain of it.

That night—

Chijiwa was alone in the hangar.

He had borrowed a brush, paint, chalk, and a step ladder from the mechanics and now stood next to his new partner.

He set up the ladder between the cockpit and the forewing and gripped the chalk.

Then, he let the image of his “guardian” from the past flood his mind.

The face of his friend, who had always been by his side on Battleship Island.

Once he had recalled that face in full detail, he lovingly began sketching on the Shinden Kai’s aluminium armour with the chalk.

After redrawing it several times and correcting the finer details, the image of a beagle dog appeared.

Chijiwa stepped off the ladder, gazed up at his sketch with a satisfied, Buddha-like expression, then dipped his brush into the paint.

To ensure the Seagull would recognize him, he had to paint Tareo’s face on this new plane as well.

He had always done well in art class. His teacher had praised him, though he had never told anyone that he actually liked drawing.

He worked carefully, adding colour to the guardian spirit of the sky.

As he traced the outline of the beagle, memories of his time on Battleship Island came flooding back, carried on a wave of nostalgia.

It was an island where the sky seemed cut off like the pages of a book, where no wind blew, and where waves crashed against the seawalls instead of rain. Back then, all he had wanted was to leave that island, where neither dreams nor hope could be found, but now, he recalled it with fondness as his hometown.

Most of the memories that came to him were of the hill where he had spent time with Yuki.

It was one of the few places on the island where you could get a clear view of the sky. He had spent hours there studying hard, using a bench as a desk, while listening to Yuki’s clear, vibrant singing.

Those days seemed like a distant memory. They had met when he was fourteen, and now, he was about to turn twenty-four.

Ten years had passed since then. So much had changed over that time.

While he had been training in the preparatory corps, Tareo had passed away. Yuki had been the one to care for him in his final days. When Chijiwa returned to Battleship Island on leave, he and Yuki had stood together, weeping in front of Tareo’s grave on the hill.

Seven years ago, after completing his training and becoming an official pilot, Yuki had joined an entertainment agency and left the island to pursue her career in the capital.

Even after that, they had kept in touch through letters and met whenever they could. Each time they met, Yuki seemed more mature. She dyed her hair black and learned to move with graceful elegance, showing expressions Chijiwa had never seen from her back on the island.

Chijiwa felt his own heart stirring with tender emotions.

But the world’s political situation had not been kind enough to let such a carefree relationship blossom. As tensions mounted, Chijiwa devoted himself to the intense training required of him, while Yuki poured nearly all her time into surviving the harsh music industry.

When Yuki’s first record was released, they celebrated together.

It was a moment of pure happiness. Since boyhood, it had been his dream to listen to Yuki’s music on a record.

They had both fulfilled the dreams they had sworn to each other on Battleship Island.

But what was supposed to happen after achieving their dreams?

Chijiwa didn’t know. All he knew was that, as he continued to listen to Yuki’s record, the war began.

And he had been fighting ever since. He had shot down over two hundred enemy pilots in these skies. Many of his comrades had also died. He had never once stopped to question the meaning of it all. But now, as he quietly reflected on it while painting Tareo’s face, he felt a complex mixture of pride and foolishness.

Suddenly, Yuki’s voice from long ago echoed in his ear.

“You’re cool.”

Twelve-year-old Yuki had told him that with a serious look on her face.

“You’re not pathetic at all. You’re way cooler than the middle school boys.”

He remembered how his chest had tightened and his cheeks had flushed when she had said that.

Now, Chijiwa chuckled softly to himself.

—Yuki, am I still cool?

—Or have I just become a killer?

He posed the question to the Yuki of his memories, but there was no answer. Chijiwa silently continued painting Tareo. Once he was satisfied with the result, he fell asleep in the cockpit.

"Hey, there's a beagle drawn on it, Lieutenant!"

The next morning, Sugino entered the hangar and exclaimed in surprise upon seeing the beagle illustration.

"I've always wondered, who draws these illustrations?"

Sugino tilted his head in curiosity. Without breaking his stern expression, Chijiwa boldly lied.

"It was Hasami."

"Ehhh?!"

"I had no idea Lieutenant Hasami had such a talent..."

"Apparently, his dream was to become a manga artist."

"Ehhh?!"

"That's unexpected..."

Piling lie upon lie, Chijiwa then spent the rest of the day immersed in familiarization flights with the Shinden Kai. It felt as if Tareo was flying alongside him, and he could tell the new plane was becoming a seamless extension of his body.

Before the next naval battle, he had to become one with the Shinden Kai. Despite suffering from flight fatigue and aviation neurosis, Chijiwa continued to fly over Awashima’s skies.

It wasn’t until late June, over a month after he started familiarization flights, that he learned Misora Mizumori was coming to Awashima for a film shoot.

The streets of Daidoarai were bustling with excitement.

Every conversation on the street revolved around Misora Mizumori. The fact that the beloved national singer was staying for nearly a month in such a remote area had everyone in high spirits.

"She could've picked a better time to come, though."

"I heard the military wants to keep the public from realizing how dire the situation is. They’re bringing her here to show that Awashima isn’t under threat and spread that message before the truth gets out."

"Poor woman, risking her life to film a movie on the front lines..."

Overhearing the town’s chatter, Chijiwa couldn’t help but feel conflicted.

—What I need to focus on is becoming one with the Shinden Kai. That’s all that matters.

He kept telling himself this, but another voice, one that came from within, replied.

—You should see Yuki.

—You’ll regret it if you don’t.

The inner voice echoed in his heart.

—If you miss this chance, you may never see her again.

It wasn’t a conscious thought, but rather a whisper from deep within his body.

Feeling uneasy, Chijiwa opened the throttle on the Shinden Kai.

The sky over Awashima, covered in layered white and dark gray clouds, was turning mottled as summer approached.

He ascended to 8,000 meters. The sky was slowly beginning to take on the colours of the battlefield.

—The next battle will likely be one I won’t survive.

He honestly believed that.

The Imperial fleet was mustering all its strength to face the Bardot fleet, but the disparity in power was obvious. Knowing they couldn’t win in a head-on fight, rumours circulated that decoy fleets and special surface attacks would be carried out with no hope of returning. If Awashima, part of the absolute defence perimeter, fell, it would seal the fate of the central sea campaign. Every soldier set to participate in the upcoming battle had already accepted that it would be their final resting place, and many had written farewell letters to their families and loved ones.

Chijiwa wondered whether he should write a letter to Yuki.

Although it would be censored, he felt that no longer mattered.

But he was also afraid to reveal his true feelings by writing the letter.

He was, after all, going to his death. Yuki would be better off with someone worthy of her. It was better not to contact her. He believed that.

Three days later, Misora Mizumori arrived in Awashima with her film crew.

Chijiwa, as always, spent his time flying the Shinden Kai for training at Daidoarai Airfield. Word had spread that the carrier Unkaku was due to arrive at Daidoarai Stronghold in a week. Once it did, he and the other pilots would land their Shinden Kai on the carrier and spend time conducting joint exercises with other fleets at sea. Once aboard Unkaku, Chijiwa knew he would likely never set foot on land again.

If he were to see Yuki, it would have to be within the next week.

But—considering the things he had said to her during their sightseeing flight two years ago, there was no way he could just go and see her now.

Yuki surely wouldn’t seek him out either. Knowing her personality, she wouldn’t make the first move unless he apologized.

—Am I really not going to see her?

He asked himself, and reason told him it was for the best.

Yet, a part of him beyond reason—his primal emotions—yearned to see Yuki one more time.

What would he even say to her? He didn’t know.

But the thought of dying without seeing her again left a bitter taste in his mouth.

At the very least, he wanted to express his gratitude for everything she had done for him. He wanted to tell her that meeting her had given him the chance to live such a fulfilling life.

He wanted to tell her, but—how could he face her after everything?

Torn between these conflicting thoughts, Chijiwa continued flying.

The days passed by quickly...

Three days before Unkaku was scheduled to arrive, during the evening, Hasami received an unexpected invitation through Daidoarai Air Command, from a surprising person.

Upon reading its contents, his legs nearly gave out.

He banged his head against the wall three times to check if it was a dream.

After confirming it wasn’t, he hurried to a barber, ironed his uniform himself, brushed his teeth twice, and then set out for the designated inn.

It was an elegant building by the river, away from the busy town centre. Guards stood at the entrance, saluting Hasami as he got out of the car and confirming his armband.

Showing them the invitation, he was immediately ushered inside.

The fragrance of cedar filled the air. He was led down a polished hallway so pristine it reflected his face. The garden outside featured a fountain fed by the river, where rare birds played. It was a high-class inn that only senior officers could afford to use. Hasami had survived many battlefields and brushed against death countless times, but the person he was about to meet was an unknown quantity. He had no idea why he had been specifically invited.

He was shown into a guest room.

Misora Mizumori was there, sitting on a cushion in a white blouse and a navy skirt, just as she had been when he first met her.

When she saw Hasami, she gracefully slid back off her cushion, placed both hands on the tatami mat, and bowed deeply.

"Thank you very much for kindly accepting my sudden request today."

Her voice was so refreshing and pleasant to the ear that Hasami felt his consciousness nearly soar through the ceiling. He barely managed to keep his feet on the ground and hurried to sit down across from her.

“I’m Hasami. Not at all. I’m the one who should be thanking you for the invitation.”

Having spent most of his time drinking with rough-and-tumble non-commissioned officers, he was at a loss for how to act in such refined company.

Between them was a thick hinoki wood table with an intricate grain.

Mizumori raised her tense face, gazing directly at Hasami. Her beautiful features, known only through popular magazines and newspapers, were now directed solely at him.

“There is something I must ask of you, Lieutenant Hasami.”

“W-What is it?”

“Why don’t we discuss it over dinner? Lieutenant, do you drink…?”

“I do.”

With a clap of her hands, the sliding door opened, and servants began bringing in dishes. The meal was so extravagant that if the pilots at Sechihara had seen it, they might have attacked the table in a frenzy.

In a luxurious inn, with a national idol, surrounded by an opulent feast—it all seemed like a dream, and Hasami was sure it must be one.

Mizumori lifted a glass bottle delicately and offered a drink.

“A toast, first…”

Dream or not, Hasami steeled himself and accepted the drink poured by Misora Mizumori.

He was living the dream. At this point, he could die tomorrow with no regrets. He dug into the grilled sea bream, savoured the miso soup with crab, and let the flavour of the simmered beef soak into his soul. As Misora poured him more sake, the pure, clean alcohol washed away all the fatigue of battle.

“No, no, Misora-dono, please, have a drink as well…”

Feeling a bit bold, Hasami offered to pour her a drink, and she responded bashfully.

"Thank you. I’m not very good with alcohol, though..."

Despite her modest words, she daintily brought her lips to the cup.

"Misora-dono, you handle your liquor well."

"Oh, come now, Lieutenant, don’t tease. Here, let me pour you another..."

As they continued offering drinks to each other, they began to ease into conversation.

What on earth was going on here?

After a while, Hasami looked up to find Misora sitting cross-legged on the table, clutching a bottle of shochu, staring off into the distance.

Who was this person?

"That idiot can go die!" she yelled, looking up at the ceiling, her face flushed. She took a swig straight from the bottle. Within moments, she had drained the entire bottle and called out loudly to the servants in the hallway.

"Bring me more shochu, the strongest you’ve got!"

She pointed her chin toward Hasami as she used her chopsticks to pick at some salted squid, her face the picture of sadness as she nibbled on it.

“Usami-chan, are you listening?”

“…It’s Hasami.”

“Hic.”

“…I-I think it’s time for me to…”

“You know, that idiot hasn’t even written back. I thought he might’ve died, I was so worried. I couldn’t sleep, even though I’m super busy. I’m famous, you know? My records are selling like crazy, my agency keeps pushing me to do more work. Hic. But I’m worried. I can’t sleep. So, I pulled some strings, made a bunch of compromises. I even took jobs I hated just to make it happen. I finally managed to get permission to go to Mitohara. And then when I finally saw him, that idiot didn’t look happy at all. Urgh.”

The door slid open again, and another bottle of shochu was placed before Misora. She casually yanked out the cork, poured herself a glass, and downed it in one gulp.

She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, then gave a sheepish smile.

"So I hit him. I wanted to punch him three or four more times with my fist, but you know me, I’m nice, right? I’m way too nice, so I let him off with just one punch. Hic. I’m such a sucker. Why do I let people off so easy when I get treated like this?"

Hiccupping, Misora continued to complain about Chijiwa, with no signs of stopping.

"We were supposed to fly together. I’d been looking forward to it so much. Flying with Take-chan has been my dream all this time. I thought it had finally come true. It was the happiest moment of my life. And then that idiot, that idiot…"

“Misora-dono, I believe you’ve had a bit too much to drink…”

“Urp.”

“Well, I think it’s about time for me to…”

"It’s so cruel. He’s so, so cruel..."

Misora began to sob.

"He’s the worst. He didn’t have to say what he did. I was so happy, flying with Take-chan, the sunset was beautiful… I was so happy. But that idiot, that idiot is…"

“Misora-dono, the night is growing quite late, and…”

"I’ll never see him again. Not after what he said to me. No, never, even if he dies, I won’t see him. Absolutely not. I won’t speak a word to him..."

Misora muttered to herself, her head down as if trying to convince herself. It had been nothing but complaints, with no real conversation. Hasami, seeing no other option, looked up at Misora sitting on the table and bluntly cut in.

"Ahem, may I ask a question?"

"Ask anything."

"I didn’t know you and Chijiwa were childhood friends. It makes sense now why you specifically asked him for the sightseeing flight. But... why did you invite me here?"

"......"

"I can’t figure it out. You and I don’t have much of a connection, so why would you choose me to listen to your complaints?"

Misora stared at Hasami with a somewhat vacant expression, and after a minute, she seemed to process the question. She straightened herself on the table, adjusted her posture, and cleared her throat in an attempt to appear serious.

Her bright blue eyes looked down at Hasami.

"Usagi-san."

"...It’s Hasami."

"I hear you and Chijiwa don’t get along."

"...We’re not exactly friends."

"People say every time you meet, you end up in fistfights, spreading rumours about each other, or trying to shoot each other down on the battlefield..."

"...It’s not that bad, but we do fight a lot. Honestly, it’s rare to meet someone I disagree with as much as him."

"That’s exactly why I’m asking you for this. I... I just want to make Chijiwa—no, Take-chan—cry. I want to see him stomp the floor over and over, sobbing in frustration..."

"......"

"Hasawa-san."

"Who?"

"I know this request might seem a bit... unconventional, but—"

"We’ve gone well past that point. You’re already very unconventional, Misora-dono."

"Is that so? That’s good, then. Here’s my request..."

She cleared her throat again, clasping her hands together, and, with a serious expression, asked:

"Would you pretend to be my fiancé?"

There was a sudden clattering sound from the bamboo fountain in the garden.

Hasami gaped at her, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the national icon sitting primly before him.

"Me... as your fiancé?"

"Yes. If Take-chan finds out, he’ll surely cry and throw a tantrum. If he knows I’m with the man he hates most in the world, his iron mask will crumble."

"...But... isn’t that just... a mean-spirited prank?"

"…A prank?"

"...Yes."

Misora stared down at Hasami for a while.

Gradually, her beautiful face began to turn pale.

Suddenly, she jumped down from the table and sat beside Hasami. From this close, she glared directly into his eyes.

"Am I the only one who has to put up with this?"

"......"

"Men can do whatever they want, but I just have to deal with being hurt?"

"......"

"Take-chan was the one who hurt me first! Why do I have to be the one to hold back?"

"......"

"Men are always like this. They use you, do whatever they want, then say, 'I want you to be happy, find someone else.' What an idiot! What is that?! What kind of person does that?!"

"......"

"He should cry. Cry, cry, regret it, be tormented by jealousy, and throw himself at you in a fit. It was his fault for being cruel first. This makes us even."

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

Misora was crying now. She wiped away her tears with her arm, drinking more shochu, her face twisting with sadness.

"That’s enough. That’s fine. Serves him right. Take-chan’s going to marry the one person he hates most in this world—Usagi-san. That’ll teach him. Serves him right."

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

"Why did I ever meet him?"

Her face was drenched in tears.

"Why do I love him so much?"

Tears fell from Misora’s cheeks onto the tatami mat.

"I can’t get him out of my head. No matter who I meet or talk to, even when I try to date someone else, he always shows up halfway through."

She rubbed her face raw, but the tears kept flowing. She looked up at the ceiling, unable to stop crying.

"I love Take-chan. I love him so much. But all he cares about is the sky. All he can think about is shooting down enemies up there."

The voice she squeezed out held none of the sweetness of her usual singing. Before Hasami was no famous idol, but a woman carrying the weight of unrequited love.

Hasami clenched his lips, gripping his fists tightly on his knees. A surge of anger welled up inside him, but he barely managed to hold it back.

Hasami lifted his head.

"…Very well. I’ll play the role of your fake fiancé."

Taken aback by the sudden response, Misora looked at Hasami in confusion.

"…W-What?"

"I said I’ll grant your request."

Misora stared at Hasami in disbelief. She likely never imagined anyone would agree to such a humiliating role for a woman they barely knew.

But Hasami’s eyes, sharpened by years of battlefield experience, pierced into Misora's intoxicated state.

"How about tomorrow? We can hold hands, show up together in front of Chijiwa, and see how he reacts. Let’s plan it out. We can summon him here tomorrow, and when he arrives, we’ll greet him together as a happy couple. He’ll be completely shocked."

As Hasami spoke with determination, Misora, though her face was tense, gave a small nod.

That night—

Chijiwa lay in bed at the barracks, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

He knew Yuki was here, on this island.

But he didn’t know what to do.

Time was slipping away, and staying here wrestling with his thoughts wouldn’t solve anything.

A voice suddenly broke his contemplation.

"Chijiwa, I need to talk to you. Come outside."

Opening his eyes slightly, he saw the familiar gruff face of his colleague looking down at him. From the looks of it, the guy was angry.

"If it’s a lecture, save it for tomorrow."

"Sorry, but this is urgent."

"What’s this about?"

"Come outside. We need to talk."

Chijiwa frowned and slowly got up. In the darkness, he could almost see the flames of anger surrounding Hasami. He put on his flight suit and followed him out of the barracks.

Outside, the moonlight bathed the field in a brilliant blue glow. The full moon was so bright that it cast sharp shadows on the ground.

Hasami got straight to the point.

"I met with Misora Mizumori. Her real name is Yuki Yoshioka, wasn’t it?"

Chijiwa felt a sharp pain in his chest.

"…What?"

"She sent me an invitation out of the blue. We had dinner, and I heard most of the story about you two."

"......"

"Go see her tomorrow. Apologize for what you did."

Chijiwa glared silently at his colleague.

"Why are you getting involved in my business with Yuki? It’s none of your concern."

"I don’t want to be involved either, but now I have no choice."

"What do you mean?"

"Misora-dono... she came all this way just to see you. That’s all she wants. Go see her."

"I’m asking why you’re sticking your nose into it. I don’t need your meddling."

After biting his lip for a moment, Hasami raised his head, his shoulders tensing with anger.

"…What if I told you she and I are engaged?"

Chijiwa stared at him in disbelief.

The moon's cold, blue light poured down between them.

Chijiwa stood there, frozen, his lips tight, glaring at Hasami with his usual sharp eyes.

"...That’s ridiculous."

Finally, he muttered. Hasami lowered his tense shoulders and furrowed his brow.

"Of course, it is. But that’s the lie Misora-dono was planning to tell. She heard somewhere that you and I are like oil and water, so she wanted to make up a story about our engagement."

"...For what reason?"

"To hurt you."

"......That’s ridiculous. Even if it’s true, I’d just laugh."

"Chijiwa, can’t you see how desperate she is? She came all the way to this front-line island, hoping to hurt you in the most childish way. You may never see her again, but all she wants is to carve out a little space in your heart for herself. That’s her only wish."

Chijiwa stood silently, glaring at Hasami, his mouth set in a grim line. Slowly, an invisible flame began to rise around him.

"I don’t want to hear you lecture me about Yuki."

"Fine, I’m just a meddling fool. But I can’t just leave it alone."

"We’re soldiers. We live to fight. There’s no place for someone like Yuki in my life. She wouldn’t be happy with me."

"Misora-dono came here to see you! You could at least spend a little time with her!"

"It’ll only make things worse. I don’t belong in her life."

"What are you talking about?! Even if you can’t reciprocate her feelings, don’t leave things on such a sour note. You might never see her again. At least give her a proper goodbye!"

"Enough. I don’t need your advice. Is that all? I’m leaving."

Chijiwa turned to walk away, but Hasami grabbed his shoulder, gripping it firmly.

"Swear you’ll go see her."

Chijiwa turned his icy gaze back at him.

Hasami’s fiery eyes were just inches away.

"…Let go."

"Not until you swear."

"By force, then?"

"Yes."

"I see."

Chijiwa looked up at the moon, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then his lips curled into a sharp smile.

"Been a while since we had a brawl."

And with that, he punched Hasami square in the face.

A grunt escaped Hasami as his head jerked back, but he quickly recovered.

Blood trickled from his nose, and he grinned.

"Last time, I won, didn’t I?"

With a swift right hook, Hasami landed a punch on Chijiwa’s cheek.

Chijiwa’s head snapped to the side, but he quickly returned the grin, blood dripping from his mouth.

"The time before that, I won."

The two continued to pummel each other.

The sound of fists connecting with faces and bodies echoed under the moonlight.

As they traded blows, Hasami asked:

"What are we fighting for?"

Chijiwa punched Hasami as he replied:

"For the nation."

Hasami laughed and dismissed the textbook answer.

"You can’t protect the country if you make a woman cry."

He swung his arm like a log and struck Chijiwa in the side.

Chijiwa was sent flying, crashing to the ground, but he smiled and slowly got back up.

"That’s not like you."

Suddenly, Chijiwa’s knee drove into Hasami’s stomach. Hasami grunted, bent over, but quickly glared up at Chijiwa again, his eyes gleaming.

"To protect the nation means to protect its women and children."

With a swift punch to Chijiwa’s temple, Hasami sent him sprawling again. He stood tall, looking down at his friend.

"We’re fighting so that fifty or a hundred years from now, our people can walk proudly as humans, not be called monkeys."

Hasami delivered a crushing blow to Chijiwa’s head, sending him sprawling to the ground. He stood over his fallen friend.

"If you can’t protect a single woman, how can you protect a country? How can you protect the future? If you want to talk about protecting the nation, make that woman happy first."

Chijiwa lay on the ground, looking up at Hasami, his body refusing to move. The punch had hit him hard, leaving him paralysed.

He spat out a mouthful of blood and glared up at Hasami.

"That’s a ridiculous opinion..."

Hasami pulled an envelope from his pocket and threw it down in front of Chijiwa.

"It’s an invitation. It’ll get you into the inn where Misora-dono is staying. I was supposed to use it tomorrow, but I have no interest in playing along with this charade."

"......"

"Tomorrow evening. Go see her. Don’t ever make her cry like that again."

With that, Hasami left Chijiwa lying there and walked back to the barracks.

Chijiwa watched him go, struggling to move his arm as he lay on the grass.

"Damn it... brute strength..."

As he cursed, he gazed up at the brilliant full moon. He’d lost to Hasami in brawls three times now, but this punch felt like the heaviest he’d ever taken.

The sky above was filled with stars. The scent of grass was thick in the air. Crickets chirped around him.

"Even though you’re weak in the sky..."

His head was still spinning, the pain from the punches radiating through his body. He couldn’t move yet, and the night breeze was soothing, so Chijiwa lay on the grass, gazing up at the stars and the full moon.

As he stared at the sky, that familiar smile appeared in his mind.

──Yuki.

Her voice, the one that had always supported him back on Battleship Island, echoed from the past.

Chijiwa’s heart ached. The pain felt like it came from Yuki’s own suffering.

Hasami’s words echoed in his mind: "At least give her a proper goodbye."

The upcoming battle had little chance of survival. Perhaps Hasami was right, maybe it was better to part on good terms.

──Even if it stirs up old feelings.

──At least... I can apologize.

With that thought, Chijiwa reached out from where he lay, grabbing the invitation Hasami had thrown down, and checked the location of the inn where Yuki was staying.

The next day, in the evening—

Chijiwa handed the invitation to the guards at the inn.

After confirming his uniform and rank insignia, the guards stepped aside.

It was a grand, luxurious inn. Following behind the attendant, Chijiwa walked along a polished exterior corridor, glancing to the right at the stone garden bathed in the dimming evening light.

Back when they were on Battleship Island, they were just a poor boy and girl living in a daily-wage company housing unit.

The days when they worked together on the hilltop, striving to achieve their dreams.

Only filled with hope for the future, without knowing what awaited them beyond, they simply chased after their dreams with all their might.

And now, he had become a king of the skies, and Yuki had become the most popular singer in Amatsukami.

Far from Battleship Island, in this luxurious inn that only high-ranking officers could use, he had come to meet her to apologize for everything. When he thought back on it, it felt like a strange twist of fate.

"This way, please."

The attendant knelt on the corridor and gestured toward the sliding door to the room.

Chijiwa opened the door.

Inside the spacious room, there was a single hinoki wood table, and in front of it sat Mizumori Misora, kneeling.

Her light blue eyes lifted towards him, showing clear shock and surprise.

"…Take…chan…"

Chijiwa stepped into the room and casually closed the door behind him.

"It's been two years."

Yuki’s eyes widened, and she gasped. Chijiwa sat down across from her.

"I heard everything from Hasami. He didn’t feel like going along with your little game, so I came instead."

Yuki’s slightly open mouth gradually closed. Her expression stiffened, and her narrowed eyes took on a harsh look.

"…What’s that supposed to mean? What’s going on? What do you mean?"

Chijiwa pressed his lips together, then looked Yuki straight in the eyes before bowing his head.

"I’m sorry. I was wrong. I knew you dreamed of flying with me, yet I didn’t think things through enough. Please forgive me."

Chijiwa bowed deeply, almost touching his forehead to the table.

Yuki’s expression began to show signs of anger. Strong breaths escaped from her nose several times.

"…What is this? I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care about you, Take-chan. I don’t even know what you’re talking about."

"…I see. …Yeah. …But, I’m still sorry."

"…Hmph. …What’s this? …Hmph."

Chijiwa remained silent, his head still bowed. Yuki glared at his shaved head, clearly frustrated.

"…I didn’t come here to see you. I’m just here for work on Awa Island…"

"…"

"…How long are you going to keep your head down? …It’s enough. …Stop it already."

"…I’m sorry."

"I said it’s fine. I don’t care about you, Take-chan. It doesn’t matter. I’m a popular singer now, you know? I barely even think about you. So, you don’t need to apologize anymore."

"…"

"Lift your head already. I said it’s fine. It’s enough."

Reluctantly, Chijiwa raised his head. Yuki snorted softly and her voice softened.

"Would you like something to drink? Or something to eat? You like alcohol, right? Go ahead, have a drink."

She clapped her hands to call the attendant, ordered something, and then turned back to face Chijiwa.

"It’s been a while, hasn’t it?"

There was a shy tone in her voice. It made Chijiwa’s chest ache.

"Yeah, it’s been a while."

As he answered, Yuki chuckled softly.

"Take-chan, your responses haven’t changed at all since we were kids."

Food and drinks were brought in, and the two began their quiet meal together.

As the night deepened—

Yuki was the one doing most of the talking. Chijiwa merely nodded and added a few words here and there as he drank from the cup Yuki poured for him, letting the sound of her voice wash over him.

She spoke of the struggles back in the mainland, the arrogance of the military police, the pitiful state of the malnourished children, and the slogans meant to raise war morale that covered the streets. Her words carried a clear distaste for the ongoing war.

As she drank more, she started talking about how she was only allowed to sing songs approved by the Imperial General Headquarters, her tone clearly showing her frustration.

"I really hope the war ends soon. I hate this. Everyone’s losing everything—sacrificing their lives, their possessions, and their loved ones… who even benefits from this?"

"…Who knows. Probably the ones making the things needed for war."

"What’s that supposed to mean? That’s just a handful of people. Are they the bad guys?"

Chijiwa silently poured himself another drink. Yuki’s gaze stayed firmly fixed on him.

"…There’s no good guy or bad guy, not in this Central Sea War. If you’re looking for someone to blame, it would be Perle. It all started when he forced Levamme’s demands on Amatsukami. That’s when Amatsukami’s long suffering began."

Perle was the Levamme general who, about a century ago, crossed the Great Falls with his fleet, threatened the Amatsukami Shogunate with cannons, and forced them into an unequal treaty.

"Perle, huh? He’s a historical figure. So it’s Perle’s fault?"

"Don’t take me seriously. I was joking."

"Wait, that was a joke?"

"Looking for the cause of a war is just a joke in itself."

"Is that how it is?"

Chijiwa poured another drink, took a moment to think, then, uncharacteristically, began to speak at length.

"There are too many causes. Ignorance and disdain for other ethnic groups, imperialism, the development of destructive weapons brought by advances in science and technology, the mass production of airplanes, warships, and tanks fuelled by industrial growth… Especially the development of airplanes, which made attacking neighbouring countries easier. Airplanes don’t care about trenches or bunkers; they just fly over defence lines and attack. When offensive power surpasses defensive power, wars become more likely. All sorts of factors somehow came together in this era, and naturally, war broke out. In the end, it’s not that anyone is particularly at fault. It’s just the demands of the times. You could say that this planet, as part of human history’s progress, called for a decisive battle between Levamme and Amatsukami. That’s all there is to it."

Yuki let out a breath through her nose, seemingly impressed. After some contemplation, she spoke with a light-hearted tone.

"…Take-chan, you’ve changed. You used to only think about yourself, but now… it feels like you’re seeing something bigger."

"…Is that so? I’m not aware of any change."

"You’ve grown up."

Yuki smiled. Chijiwa tried to hide his embarrassment with a frown.

"Hasami always calls me a brat."

"…Hasami-san is a good person, isn’t he? Even though I made such a selfish request, he wasn’t angry at all and went along with it. He’s really nice."

"He beat me up. A guy like that can’t be nice."

Yuki let out a small laugh and then propped her cheek on her hand, gazing straight at Chijiwa.

"War is awful. It’s too much… I just want it to end already."

"…Yeah. If I could, I’d end this stupid fight myself. We can’t keep doing this forever…"

Chijiwa spoke as if to himself.

Yuki’s voice grew soft, filled with worry.

"Take-chan, don’t push yourself too hard, okay? Please don’t die. Just… don’t die, okay?"

"…"

"Say something. I can accept anything, just… don’t die."

"I can’t make that promise. Dying in the sky is what a pilot lives for."

"No, stop it, please. Don’t say things like that. You might feel that way, but think about the people you’d leave behind…"

Chijiwa pursed his lips and fell silent.

"I shouldn’t have encouraged you to join the flight training school. If I hadn’t, we could still be living happily on Battleship Island together."

"…"

"I never thought it would turn out like this. If I had known you’d go to war, I wouldn’t have helped you study. Why did I do that? I didn’t have to become a singer. It would’ve been enough if you just listened to my songs."

Yuki was drunk, and the words she could no longer hold back kept spilling out.

"…That’s not true. It was the right choice for both of us."

"Why? How? This is nothing like the right choice. Every day, I’m filled with anxiety and fear. If we’d stayed on Battleship Island, I wouldn’t have to worry like this…"

"…"

"Quit being a pilot. You don’t have to be some kind of 'samurai of the skies' or whatever."

"…"

"You know this war is wrong, don’t you? So why are you still willing to die? For whom? For what? Take-chan, you’re being ridiculous…"

"…Yuki. I…"

Chijiwa started to speak but stopped, lowering his head. He bit his lip, trying to suppress his emotions. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke, his words carefully chosen.

"Yuki… I owe you everything. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been able to attend the flight training school… I truly appreciate it. Everything I’ve experienced in battle… none of it was meaningless. No… it wasn’t just meaningless. I’ve had more valuable experiences than I ever could have hoped for."

"…"

"If I had stayed on Battleship Island, I would never have seen the things I’ve seen. War is an absurd, senseless thing, but the experiences I’ve gained on the battlefield are priceless."

"…"

What played behind Chijiwa’s closed eyelids were images of men in the most extreme situations.

The unforgettable salute of the Seagull. The final moments of Goto and Kannonji. The entire crew of the Unzuru watching in awe as Chijiwa landed his single-winged aircraft. The noble leadership of Commander Shirase and Captain Miyoshi. The enemy pilot calling for his fallen comrades’ names over the radio. The ground crew risking their lives to remove timed bombs with fire tongs, knowing they could explode at any moment. The bombers and torpedo planes that charged forward, even knowing the enemy had VT fuses. The Bardot's refusal to fire a single anti-aircraft round despite the provocative aerobatic manoeuvres. The Seagull who responded to the challenge with an official reply. The Otonashi Air Squadron members who, despite their starvation, fatigue, and air combat neurosis, gritted their teeth and raced to their planes to face an enemy formation of over 200 planes at the sound of the alarm…

Covered in blood, deprived of rest and food, tormented by disease, the warriors stood their ground against a massive enemy, never once complaining. Sometimes, even among the enemy, they found courage and honour. These were humans willing to sacrifice themselves to protect someone they held dear. Men who gave their lives for their roles, for their families, friends, and lovers, for the future of their country. They were a proud and noble band of warriors.

Of course, there was more filth than honour on the battlefield. There were cowards and weaklings in droves. Some officers gave reckless attack orders for the sake of their own glory, then fled the battle themselves. The past two and a half years had been filled with filth, stupidity, suffering, and death. But it was precisely in the midst of that filth that human dignity and nobility shone the brightest.

These thoughts turned into words directed at Yuki.

"I am grateful to the god who gave me life in this era."

Yuki’s face tensed. She could no longer hold back the tears that welled in her eyes.

"This war is wrong. It’s absurd. We must never let it happen again. But meeting the people who live their lives to the fullest in this time is something I treasure. When I was on Battleship Island, I couldn’t help but think that all people were dirty and selfish. Everyone only cared about themselves, tricking others without hesitation, pulling them down at every opportunity. But the battlefield taught me that humans are both foolish and noble. It’s simply a matter of choosing whether to be a coward or a man of honour. I refuse to be a coward. I will not succumb to fear. I want to fight this war to the end with my comrades. That resolve will not waver."

"…"

"The life I’ve lived was a gift from you. If I hadn’t met you, I would never have taken to the skies. I am truly grateful. I am satisfied. Thank you. I’m glad I met you."

Words flowed effortlessly from Chijiwa’s mouth, surprising even himself. He had never been able to express his feelings this honestly before.

A single large tear fell from Yuki’s eyes, her voice trembling.

"Take-chan, isn’t that… doesn’t that sound like… like you’re saying goodbye?"

"…?"

“That... it sounds just like a will...”

Yuki said this as she scrunched up her face.

“Don’t you realize what you’re saying? It’s a will. Stop it. Realize what you’re saying. Those words... they’re the ones I’ll remember after you’re gone. So don’t say things like that.”

Hearing this, Chijiwa thought back on his words.

Indeed, they were unmistakably like a last will and testament.

“You’re right. Just think of it as my will,” he said matter-of-factly, which only made Yuki raise her voice even more.

“No! I don’t want that! Please, Take-chan, don’t die, I’ll do anything, just stop going to war...”

Yuki circled around the table, sat beside Chijiwa, and grabbed the sleeve of his uniform, pleading with him.

“Please stop fighting... Next time, you’ll really die, Take-chan...!”

“...Hey, calm down...”

“No, I won’t let go. I’ll tie you up if I have to, but you’re staying here. You don’t need to fly anymore. Why do you always think about dying? It’s not normal! You should be thinking about staying alive!”

With tears streaming down her face, Yuki pressed her forehead against Chijiwa’s upper arm.

“Let’s go back to Battleship Island. I’ll quit being a singer too. We can go back to the daily-wage housing.”

“...”

“I was happiest when I was practicing my songs on that hill. I want to go back to that time. I don’t need to achieve my dreams. I just want to eat porridge with you on Battleship Island and laugh together...”

“...”

Chijiwa had never seen Yuki cry this much before. It was the first time she had revealed her emotions so openly.

Yuki sensed something. That much was clear. The sadness she was feeling flowed directly into him from her forehead, pressed against his arm.

Naturally, Chijiwa’s arm wrapped around Yuki’s back.

Yuki pressed her face against Chijiwa’s chest and continued to cry.

“I don’t want you to leave, Take-chan.”

“Yuki.”

“Yes?”

“...I have to fight.”

“Stop. Stop. Please stop...”

“There’s a man I have to settle things with.”

“You don’t have to settle anything...”

“He’s the only person I’ve ever lost to. Two of my comrades were shot down by him. I can’t think about anything else but beating him.”

To forever erase the memory of that salute that lingered in his mind.

“I’ve never been so passionate about shooting down an enemy before. He’s the first person I’ve ever wanted to fight with all my abilities. In this sky, where no one has ever been a worthy opponent, I finally found my destined rival. His aerial skills, his character, his love for the sky... I respect him as an enemy. He wants to settle things with me too.”

“No, you can’t. You can’t fight him...”

Yuki said this, as if sensing something terrible. All her worst fears seemed to centre around this rival.

“He’s going to kill you, Take-chan.”

Chijiwa held Yuki tighter as he embraced her, his affection evident.

His apology came in a single sentence.

“I will shoot down the Seagull.”

Yuki felt his resolve through his words.

“When I shoot him down, I’ll surely see something different.”

Perhaps, in these eyes that only saw that salute, Yuki’s smile would finally appear.

“That’s so stupid... You’re an idiot...”

“Yeah, it’s stupid. Maybe I’m crazy. But right now... I can’t think of anything but shooting down the Seagull. It’s the only thing in my mind...”

Yuki’s back was delicate. Her arms, clinging to him, were slender. Her sobbing gradually turned into words.

“You’re going to die, Take-chan.”

“I’m prepared.”

“I won’t let you go. I won’t let you go anywhere.”

“Yuki.”

Yuki tightened her grip on Chijiwa’s back. Her tear-streaked eyes pressed against his chest.

It was as if she were trying to sew his body and soul to her forever.

Surely, the premonition Yuki was feeling now was right.

Chijiwa’s instincts, honed through the battlefield, whispered this to him.

I won’t see Yuki again.

For some reason, he knew this. It’s said that when someone is close to death, they often instinctively reach out to those closest to them. Perhaps this was why they were meeting like this now.

“Yuki.”

Every time he whispered her name, his affection grew stronger. Now that he knew he would never see her again, his regrets multiplied.

All this time, he had done nothing but hurt her. And yet, Yuki had always cared for him. She had come to this dangerous frontline island just to see him.

Could there be any man worse than him? Any man more fortunate than him?

“Don’t go.”

In Yuki’s tear-filled eyes, he saw his reflection.

Chijiwa stopped thinking.

He surrendered to the most basic, natural desire of life.

He stopped thinking about the past and the future.

All that mattered was this moment.

He knew there was no going back, and perhaps this was immoral. Perhaps he was only leaving Yuki with more sadness.

But Chijiwa was following the voice inside him.

This was Yuki’s true happiness. Even if they never met again, this moment would give Yuki the strength to keep living.

“Yuki.”

He called her name. This kind, gentle woman accepted everything.

Yuki was soft and warm. As their bodies came together, all he felt was tenderness.

“Take-chan.”

The tears had stopped at some point.

The quiet joy they shared was theirs alone. Their heartbeats played in harmony, the same rhythm.

“Promise me.”

Yuki whispered in Chijiwa’s ear.

“When you shoot down that man, you’ll come back.”

Chijiwa stayed silent for a moment, then made his promise.

“I’ll shoot down the Seagull and come back to you.”

“It’s a promise.”

As they exchanged these words, they reaffirmed each other’s presence. Together, they became one, transforming that fleeting moment into eternity.

Yuki opened her eyes.

She lay alone in the dishevelled futon.

The shoji window was glowing white with the morning light. The sound of sparrows was refreshing. The early-rising cicadas buzzed in the distant grove.

She got out of the futon, put on her yukata, and opened the sliding door. Beyond the porch, the sunlight filtered through the trees, making the garden’s stones glisten. The pure air filled her chest deeply.

There was no one else in the room.

“Take-chan.”

Inside her, something remained.

It was the warmth that Chijiwa had left behind.

A single tear rolled down Yuki’s cheek.

“Take-chan.”

Surely, he wouldn’t return. That warmth made her certain of it.

Yuki cried alone, calling out his name over and over again, even though he would never return.

The cicadas’ voices sounded distant. Summer had already come to this island.

The rainbow disappeared from the great waterfall.

At the cleft in the ocean, with a height difference of 1,300 meters, thousands of rainbows continuously formed amidst the masses of cascading seawater. However, that rainbow had now fled the sky completely, as if it were a young fawn. The vast darkness scattered the rainbow.

Sunlight no longer reached the ocean, and even the sky disappeared.

What now ruled the heavens was a swarm of flying steel machines.

The immense number of airships, now scattering the rainbow and blocking out the sunlight, drowned out even the roaring of the great waterfall with the hum of their lift devices, as they descended from the western sea to the eastern sea.

Since the founding of the Levamme Empire, this was the largest airship fleet in history to pass over the great waterfall.

For two and a half years since the war began, the fleet had amassed every airship it could, large and small, and today, in five circular formations arranged in a cross, they etched a menacing pattern into the blue sky.

This was the Bardot Fleet.

The new invincible fleet, which had obliterated the Hachigami Fleet in a single blow during the Battle of Est Miranda, had equipped all of its vessels with lift devices. Additionally, five aircraft carriers, fifteen light and heavy cruisers, and twenty destroyers were added to the formation, and they descended grandly upon the eastern sea, ruled by the Amatsukami.

Each time one of the giant ships touched the surface of the sea, a shockwave rippled out as if the ocean had been torn apart, sending massive columns of water and concentric ripples spreading outward. Once the fleet had passed over the great waterfall, there was no longer any need to fly. Though air battles favoured airships, encounters between fleets were unlikely, so landing was the safer option. Over 200 vessels, large and small, now etched a cross pattern into the surface of the sea.

Further behind, hundreds of transport ships equipped with small lift devices followed. These transport ships carried marines—over 100,000 of them—who crossed the great waterfall one after another.

The marine force alone numbered 100,000. Packed tightly into the ships, the marines were eager to escape the cramped vessels and land on solid ground, excited to engage in what they called "monkey hunting."

"Kill the monkeys," "Kill the monkeys," "Kill the monkeys."

Such chants echoed from the marines inside the landing ships as they disembarked in the eastern sea. The overwhelming power of this massive fleet only served to further inflame the soldiers' combat enthusiasm.

After all the vessels had landed, more than a thousand fighters and bombers launched from the twenty aircraft carriers. Their destination was Iyojima, the foremost eastern sea base of the Amatsukami forces.

Iyojima was a small island, small enough to circle on a bicycle in just four hours. The island was mostly mountainous and forested, with only two intersecting runways and a small airfield. The defence force consisted of around 10,000 troops.

The 25 planes that scrambled to intercept were little more than dust, swallowed by the avalanche. With over 300 Levamme fighters, the Imperial Air Force effortlessly took control of the skies over Iyojima, followed by more than 700 bombers that flattened the Amatsukami’s ground facilities.

For three days, battleships, cruisers, and destroyers pounded the island with bombardments, meticulously burning the forests with napalm before landing boats thrust their bows into the sandy shores. The Imperial Marine Corps' strongest assault division, the 18,000-strong First Marine Division, made a triumphant landing.

"This is not a battle. Gentlemen, you are about to embark on a leisurely outing. Your task is a simple one—just shoot the surviving monkeys."

Before the landing, General Leopard addressed the marines with these words. Most of the soldiers felt as if they were going on a picnic. General Leopard had boasted to the Bardot Fleet’s naval commander, "We'll take the island in three days," as he set foot on the soil of Iyojima.

The island was a scorched wasteland. They believed that all the "monkeys" they were meant to hunt had already been killed by the bombing and shelling. But as they moved deeper into the island, the Amatsukami soldiers, who had hidden in natural caves and old mine tunnels, launched a counterattack of bullets and bayonets.

The bombing and shelling had not reached the Amatsukami forces entrenched in underground positions. The defenders, concealed throughout the rugged mountainous terrain, launched night-time close-quarters combat with bayonets and swords against the strongest division of the Levamme Marines.

During the day, the Amatsukami forces would hide deep in the caves and tunnels of the mountains, only to emerge at night and conduct aggressive night-time raids. These surprise attacks left the marines trembling. The suicide squads, clad in white sashes, conducted such ferocious charges that many marines succumbed to mental collapse. The white-sash units infiltrated the marine positions under cover of night, encircled small groups, and then attacked simultaneously. The technique of night assaults, spreading out and converging in attack, was a specialty of the Amatsukami army. Mistaking the loud explosions of the hand grenades for large-scale artillery, the marines often engaged in friendly fire and panicked retreats, resulting in many squads being wiped out during the night.

By day, it was the marines' time to strike, protected by their steel machines. But even as they approached the underground positions with tanks and burned out the caves with flamethrowers, the Amatsukami soldiers threw themselves beneath the tank treads with mines strapped to their backs, destroying the tanks along with themselves.

"They’re insane."

The marines couldn’t comprehend such behaviour. Rumours spread that the Amatsukami soldiers were brainwashed by their military or drugged. But no one realized that it was human pride driving the Amatsukami soldiers' actions.

What the Amatsukami feared most was not death, but shame.

They would rather face a colossal enemy and die with honour than live in disgrace, being called "monkeys." This was the ethnic legacy the Amatsukami had nurtured over 3,000 years. They were the only people in the world who found beauty in short-lived cherry blossoms, which bloomed briefly and fell with grace, rather than in withering flowers like sunflowers or hydrangeas. Their proud nature was reflected in their seemingly incomprehensible way of fighting.

Even when their food, ammunition, and medicine ran out, and their bodies shrivelled to skin and bones with maggots crawling from their wounds, the Amatsukami soldiers continued fighting. The longer the defenders of Iyojima held off the advance of the Bardot Fleet, the more time it bought to strengthen the defences of Awajima and the mainland. None of the defenders of Iyojima expected to return alive. They had fully accepted their fate of sacrificing themselves to hold back the overwhelming forces of the Levamme Marines, enduring the brutal attacks during the day and counterattacking at night.

Every day and night, the marines used planes, tanks, bulldozers, and flamethrowers to flush out and burn the hiding places of the Amatsukami soldiers. But every night, the wounded Amatsukami soldiers would crawl on their bellies to the marine positions, strapping hand grenades to their bodies, and launching suicide assaults. No matter how much napalm they dropped, no matter how much they buried the enemy alive with bulldozers, no matter how many times they set the tunnels ablaze with gasoline, the defenders of Iyojima never surrendered.

What drove them to carry out this inexpressible resistance was simply their desire not to leave behind a future where their descendants would be called "monkeys." Rather than pass down a future filled with shame and humiliation to their children, they all chose to fight and die.

The First Marine Division, which had expected to conquer Iyojima in just three days, finally withdrew about a month after landing. The division had suffered over 10,000 casualties, with a casualty rate of 55%, and the light-hearted mood they had upon landing was long gone. They had been rendered combat ineffective.

The Seventh Marine Division, which took over the battle, now approached the task with much more caution. They received reinforcement after reinforcement, expanding their control over the territory at a steady pace. The defenders of Iyojima, now cornered with nowhere left to go, transmitted their final encrypted message, “Sakura, Sakura,” to Imperial Headquarters. After launching one last desperate suicide attack, the entire garrison was annihilated two months after the Bardot Fleet’s assault had begun.

After the end of the Central Sea War, a monument was quietly erected on this island, discovered by the local inhabitants.

A short poem was inscribed on the monument in the Levamme language:

"To all travellers visiting Iyojima, if you ever visit Amatsukami, please tell of the courage of the defenders of Iyojima and their love for their homeland."

The inscription ended with the signature of Sesta Nimitz. The heroic and overwhelming battle of the Iyojima defence force had moved the heart of the Levamme Empire’s highest commander more than that of their own countrymen.

With the capture of Iyojima, Bardot finally established a foothold in the eastern sea.

The Bardot fleet, having added more transport ships and replenished its marine forces, set out with the goal of capturing Awajima in August of the Imperial Year 3212.

In response to the approach of the Bardot fleet, the Imperial Army's General Headquarters activated "Operation Urgent No. 1." The Army General Staff and the Navy Command, which had previously been at odds and had barely collaborated on any joint plans, now joined forces for the first time in earnest to carry out a comprehensive defence operation involving land, sea, and air.

If Awajima fell, the war would be lost.

This sentiment was shared by all Imperial Army soldiers participating in the operation.

For this reason, the Bardot Fleet had to be destroyed at all costs.

However, even if they wanted to confront the enemy fleet head-on, the Imperial Army no longer had enough ships or air power left to mount such a challenge.

Only two regular aircraft carriers, Unkaku and Manazuru, remained. Almost all of their experienced pilots had been lost in the Battle of Est Miranda and the defence of the Trevas Atoll. Now, 90% of the carrier airmen had less than 200 hours of flight experience, mere novices. In terms of combat readiness, the Imperial Army was trailing far behind the Levamme Army, and if they engaged in an aerial battle, it would be the Imperial Army's air force that would face destruction.

Their only hope lay in two battleships.

The super dreadnought battleships Hida and Settsu.

These relics of the outdated "big ship, big gun" doctrine, equipped with three 50-centimeter main turrets with nine guns in total, were the only remaining assets of overwhelming firepower.

The plan was:

The Bardot fleet, preparing to launch a landing operation on Awajima and Ootachi Bay, would first be attacked by the carrier air forces of the Third Fleet's Unkaku and Manazuru, acting as decoys to lure the enemy south of Awajima. Then, in that brief moment when the threat of the enemy's air power had diminished, the First Striking Fleet, cantered around Hida and Settsu, would break into Ootachi Bay, wipe out the Levamme escort fleet, and annihilate the transport convoy carrying 100,000 marines.

The plan involved using the last two remaining regular aircraft carriers as decoys, and sending the precious super dreadnought battleships on a special surface attack mission, a cold-hearted strategy indeed, but the options available to the depleted Combined Fleet were extremely limited.

They could not win against the Bardot Fleet. However, they could at least force a draw.

The Combined Fleet, with no hope of returning, would ensnare the Bardot Fleet and drag them down to the depths of the ocean, taking themselves with them. This was the only devastating option left to the Imperial Army.

On August 7th of that same year, the Bardot Fleet appeared off the coast of Awajima. Along the way, there had been not even a trace of the Imperial Army’s fleet.

The island of Awajima was now within range of the Bardot fleet’s aerial attacks. The Bardot commanders sent out a message to their over 200 warships and more than 100,000 marines:

"Comrades, let’s return this island, stolen by monkeys, to human hands!"

The Levamme soldiers responded with a thunderous cheer to the commander’s orders.

"We are justice! Kill the monkeys!" "Don’t let a single monkey escape!!" "Take back the island from the filthy monkeys!!"

The sailors and marines, united in their voices, justified the massacre that was about to begin as righteous.

In the Combat Command Centre on the third deck of the flagship Gran Ideal, Bardot could feel the fervour of the fleet’s crew.

For a fleet commander, nothing is more enjoyable than a battle where victory is all but assured.

The Imperial Army no longer had any significant air power left, while the Levamme had over 2,000 aircraft. Even if by some chance the enemy’s air force managed to launch an attack, the VT-fused anti-aircraft fire would prevent the Imperial Army from even dropping a bomb. What was about to unfold would be a time of pleasure and ecstasy, as all the pent-up desires from enduring hardship would finally be released.

"The suffering of the monkeys is my joy."

Bardot said this with satisfaction to the staff officers surrounding him.

"It doesn’t matter whether they are combatants or non-combatants. Our mission is to cleanse that island and return it to human hands. Attack again and again, and kill every last one of the fleeing monkeys."

"Yes, sir!"

"Go. Teach them of humanity’s greatness so they never think of rebelling again."

Thus began what would later be known as the Battle of Awajima, the largest naval battle in world history.

From the fringes of the 15-kilometer-wide cross-shaped formation, massive waves rolled outward. Twenty air carriers, with 1,500 fighters, bombers, and torpedo planes lined up on their decks, began to take off one after another, shaking the ocean beneath them.

The Imperial Army’s air units covered the skies over Awajima. Leading the charge were 500 Iris V fighters.

Opposing them, only 50 Shinden Kai aircraft took off from Ootachi Airfield. As the two forces crossed paths over Ootachi Bay, they quickly blossomed into fiery explosions in the sky.

The Shinden Kai fought valiantly. With the roaring of their new DC motors, "Itadaki," they dove into the vastly outnumbering enemy force. The 30-millimeter tracer rounds carved countless streaks across the summer sky, as the latest models from both the east and west clashed fiercely in dogfights.

The air battle lasted about 30 minutes.

All 50 Shinden Kai aircraft were reduced to nothing but debris in the sea.

With 480 Iris V fighters securing total control over the skies of Ootachi, more than 1,000 bombers and torpedo planes swooped down, unleashing a deluge of bombs on the fortifications.

The once-invincible Ootachi fortress guns were systematically destroyed, helpless in the face of the relentless assault.

The bombers immediately returned to their carriers, loaded up with fresh bombs, and once again set their sights on Ootachi. Bardot continued his relentless attacks, and eight hours after the battle began, the fourth wave of strikes marked the end of operations for that day.

The next day, Bardot launched another air raid on Ootachi Fortress. By then, no trace of Imperial ships could be seen in Ootachi Bay, and the defensive structures had been reduced to ash and rubble, but Bardot prudently extended his attacks to the surrounding areas.

Oohashi’s city streets also became a target for carpet bombing.

Knowing that the buildings in Amatsukami were made of wood and paper, Bardot pre-emptively grid-bombed the city, creating walls of fire to cut off the residents' escape routes. He then dropped incendiary bombs into each grid section, leaving no place to flee.

The citizens were trapped by walls of fire, burning alive from the incendiary bombs. It didn’t matter if they were civilians, women, or children—without any way to escape, they perished in flames, crying and screaming.

With the Imperial air force completely wiped out, the Levamme air units, now without any opposition, found themselves bored. To pass the time, they chased after the fleeing civilians caught in the fires, shooting them down.

Children crying out for their mothers, female students rushing toward the fire to help, mothers searching for their lost children—none were spared. The Iris V fighters relentlessly pursued them, riddling their bodies with 20-millimeter rounds. The shock from this caliber was enough to shatter limbs. Women, children, and the elderly were blown apart by the gunfire, prompting cheers and fist pumps from the Levamme pilots, who returned to their carriers to brag about their "monkey hunt." For the Levamme people, the Amatsukami were not humans, but monkeys. There was no guilt or remorse for killing them, just as there was none for hunting deer. Whether they killed civilians or young boys and girls, they took pride in fulfilling their military duties, which was the norm for Levamme soldiers.

The relentless wave of attacks from the Bardot Fleet continued for three days.

Awajima burned, and the Imperial defence installations crumbled.

And then—

The Levamme escort fleet was the first to storm into the neutralized Ootachi Bay.

The composition was four flying battleships, six heavy flying cruisers, six light flying cruisers, and ten destroyers. Before the landing fleet could enter the bay, the ships began their bombardment. Explosions from artillery shells spread uniformly across the area surrounding the Ootachi stronghold. The overwhelming firepower from the battleships completely obliterated the town of Ootachi, reducing it to scorched ruins.

The naval bombardment continued for two days. There was no counterattack from the Imperial Army.

Afterward, the landing fleet, protected by the escort fleet, finally began to move.

More than 2,000 landing crafts were packed with 100,000 marines. Onboard, chants of "Kill the monkeys" echoed as the marines, filled with excitement and anticipation for the upcoming adventure, prepared for their landing.

Just as the landing forces were about to break into Ootachi Bay, a report came from a patrol aircraft to the Gran Ideal's combat command centre: "Enemy Imperial Fleet detected!"

A smile spread across Bardot’s face.

"The fleet is 150 nautical miles southeast of Awajima, moving at 20 knots. It consists of two aircraft carriers, four light cruisers, and ten destroyers. The enemy carriers are Unkaku and Manazuru!"

Upon hearing the intelligence officer’s report, Bardot lifted the corners of his lips and replied, "So you’ve come, Unkaku. I’ve been waiting for this moment."

The Unkaku, the most powerful aircraft carrier in the Imperial Fleet, had foiled Bardot’s plans many times before.

Today, he would finally send this notorious carrier, now feared even by the Levamme Navy, to the depths of the ocean.

The Imperial Army had no significant fleet left. Bardot concluded that the enemy's main force was the fleet cantered around Unkaku. He made the decision to thoroughly annihilate the carrier fleet.

"Prepare the anti-ship attack squadron! Target the enemy fleet off Awajima!"

The order from the staff officer was relayed to the 20 aircraft carriers of the Bardot fleet.

The cross-shaped formation turned its rudders, setting its course toward the despised Unkaku. As the Imperial fleet's aircraft had inferior range, Bardot pursued the Imperial Fleet at maximum speed.

At the same time—

In the command centre of the Imperial Third Carrier Fleet, also known as the Miyoshi Fleet, aboard the flagship Unkaku, they confirmed that an enemy patrol plane had made contact with them.

As soon as they were detected, the Miyoshi Fleet slowly turned their rudders, reversing their course away from Ootachi Bay. The accompanying Manazuru, along with four light cruisers and ten destroyers, also turned in the same direction.

From here on, the mission of this decoy fleet was to lure the Bardot fleet as far southeast as possible. By diverting the enemy’s airpower toward them, they would leave Ootachi Bay vulnerable, allowing Hida and Settsu to break into the bay, destroy the enemy escort fleet with artillery fire, and sink the transport convoy carrying 100,000 marines.

"Take the bait, Bardot," Commander Miyoshi prayed as he glared at the enemy patrol plane. He had already resigned himself to the fact that there would be no return. The role of the Unkaku from now on was to fight, fight, and fight until it sank. As long as they could deceive Bardot and draw his fleet toward them, that was all that mattered. Every member of the crew was prepared to act as a decoy and sink into the sea.

For the future of Amatsukami, they were ready to sacrifice themselves in this operation.

Filled with this tragic determination, the famed carrier Unkaku, which had achieved brilliant results since the beginning of the war, embarked on its final mission as a decoy.

This resolve was, of course, conveyed to the crew of the Unkaku’s air squadron.

Since their carrier was expected to sink, the planes that took off would have no place to return to.

This next attack would be a one-way trip.

Chijiwa was one of the air squadron members aboard the doomed Unkaku.

In the ready room aboard the Unkaku, Chijiwa leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes closed, waiting for the sortie order to be given.

In the room with him were Hasami, Sugino, Matsuda, and ten other young pilots, most of whom he had never seen before.

Hasami, with his large eyes glaring, turned to one of the teenage pilots and asked, "How many flight hours do you have?"

The young soldier straightened up and answered sharply, "200 hours, sir!"

Hasami’s face twisted in displeasure. During the early days of the war, any pilot assigned to the Unkaku would have been a seasoned veteran with over 1,000 hours of flight experience. But now, these untrained, inexperienced youths were part of the Unkaku’s air squadron. The deterioration in the quality of Imperial pilots was evident from this fact.

"Can you take off?" Hasami asked.

"Yes, sir! ...However, while we can take off, we are not able to land."

"......"

With only 200 flight hours, that was to be expected. Taking off was relatively simple, but landing on a carrier’s narrow deck was far more difficult.

"Once we take off, we are prepared to crash into the enemy fleet and fulfill our mission with our lives!"

"......"

Hasami said nothing in response. Most likely, with such limited flight time, the young pilot would be intercepted by enemy fighters before even reaching the enemy fleet and shot down. At this point, even the option of ramming into the enemy as a last resort was an unlikely outcome.

"If your flight hours are insufficient, then survive," Chijiwa’s words broke the silence in the ready room. The young pilot gave him a puzzled look.

Chijiwa, his eyes still closed, continued, "With your skill, you won’t reach the enemy carrier. If you can’t land, then don’t take off. Focus on increasing your flight hours."

He spat the words out with clear disdain. The young pilot recognized Chijiwa’s name and fell silent, unable to respond, shrinking under the weight of his words. Hasami intervened.

"That’s no way to talk. It’s not like he didn’t want more training. But the situation didn’t allow for it."

"It’s a pointless death. It's foolish."

"Hey, Chijiwa, I understand you’re angry. But this kid was sent here under orders. Show some compassion..."

"Hey," Chijiwa interrupted Hasami mid-sentence and called out to the young pilot. The young man, his face pale, stood as straight as possible when addressed.

"Yes, sir!"

"If you’re going to fly aimlessly, head toward Awajima. Make an emergency landing on the beach. That’s how you’ll survive."

The young pilot’s eyes widened. A look of shock spread across Hasami’s face. Chijiwa was openly suggesting that he refuse to fight!

"Do you even realize what you’re saying!?" Hasami exclaimed.

Chijiwa opened his eyes wide, glaring at his comrade.

"It’s common sense. A soldier isn’t supposed to blindly follow a foolish superior’s foolish orders. Survive, young pilot. Don’t die meaninglessly in an idiotic operation while you’re still inexperienced. It’s better for the nation if you live and improve. Surviving and becoming stronger is how you protect your family."

"Whether young or experienced, everyone here has come with resolve! If you fill their heads with such thoughts now, it will only weaken their determination!" Hasami shouted.

"It's like throwing an egg at a wall! It’s meaningless, foolish! If the inexperienced choose a way to survive rather than go along with such stupid orders, what's so wrong with that!?" Chijiwa retorted.

Hasami stared at his colleague in shock, his mouth agape, then shook his head wearily.

"...This is the situation we're in, so I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. You’ve always been a fool, and that hasn’t changed one bit."

Chijiwa snorted, crossed his arms again, and leaned against the wall.

"I always thought I wouldn’t agree with you until the day I die. Looks like I was right."

Hasami ignored the remark and turned to the young pilot.

"Don’t mind what Chijiwa said. Your resolve is admirable. Your parents back home will surely be proud of you."

"...Yes, sir."

The young pilot looked down in shame. Hasami felt a sense of discomfort with his own words but didn’t correct them. He wondered if there was something else he should have said to this youth, who was about to head to his death, but he couldn’t think of what it might be.

"Attention, designated fighter squadron, prepare for immediate launch!" came the call at that moment. Fourteen airmen in the room, all part of the fighter unit, headed to the deck.

The squadron leader wrote the current positions of the Bardot Fleet and Unkaku on the blackboard.

"The Bardot Fleet has taken the bait and is advancing toward the southeast waters off Awajima! Our mission is to lure the Bardot Fleet as far away from Ootachi Bay as possible and draw their airpower to Unkaku and Manazuru! All fighter planes will be armed with bombs and will attack the enemy fleet!"

"Yes, sir!"

The Shinden Kai planes on the aft deck were already loaded with 250 kg bombs. The squadron planned to emulate the success Chijiwa’s unit had achieved during the Battle of Est Miranda.

"Designated fighter squadron, form up!"

The fourteen fighter pilots, including Chijiwa, lined up and awaited their final orders.

Captain Miyoshi, who had come down from the bridge, looked over the group and offered his last words.

"Even if you complete your bombing mission and return to this area, there will likely be no Unkaku for you to come back to."

For a moment, a heavy silence hung in the air.

"At this point, I have no words of apology for you. All I can do is bow my head to you. Let history judge us, those who are about to die. Show the indomitable spirit of the Amatsukami people in this sky. Each of you, fight without regrets."

"Yes, sir!"

The entire fighter squadron saluted Captain Miyoshi one last time.

His short speech, given by the legendary captain who had led Unkaku since the start of the war, struck a deep chord in the hearts of each airman. No one could have predicted that the Unkaku, which had survived so many naval battles and brought so many victories, would end up as a decoy, sinking into the sea. No one felt this more keenly than Captain Miyoshi, who had nurtured the carrier as if it were his own child.

"Fighter squadron, take off!"

The squadron leader gave the solemn order.

The fourteen airmen sprinted toward their planes, embarking on a journey from which they would never return.

Leading the lineup of Shinden Kai planes on the aft deck was Hasami's beloved aircraft.

Chijiwa, Sugino, and Matsuda silently followed behind him.

Hasami climbed the ladder to his cockpit, then paused and glanced back at Chijiwa with his usual calm expression.

"In the end, we stuck together until the very last."

Chijiwa stopped as well, grimacing and shrugging his shoulders. "Our rotten bond really lasted, didn’t it?"

Hasami turned to Sugino and Matsuda.

"You two have fought well. See you in Nirvana."

"...Yes, sir!"

Both Sugino and Matsuda saluted their respected squadron leader one final time. Hasami then looked back at Chijiwa.

"Thanks. If it weren’t for you, I’d have died long ago."

This was Hasami’s sincere feeling. His own skills in aerial combat weren’t anything remarkable, but he had survived this long thanks to Chijiwa, a born fighter pilot who had been in the same squadron.

Chijiwa let out a small laugh, brushing off Hasami's heartfelt words.

"Don’t make me cringe. Get going already."

"Hmph. No love from you, even until the end."

Hasami climbed up the last rung of the ladder and prepared to get into the cockpit. But just as he was about to take his seat, he felt an odd sensation at his feet.

"Huh?"

He looked down the ladder and, to his surprise, saw Chijiwa standing at the bottom, gripping the lower rungs with both hands and staring up at him with a mischievous grin.

"Hey, Chijiwa, what are you—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Chijiwa suddenly yanked the ladder away from the aircraft with all his strength!

"What the—! Stop messing around!!"

The ladder was about two and a half meters high, and a fall from that height wouldn’t be minor. But Chijiwa didn’t hesitate, using his full strength to pull the ladder and Hasami off the side of the plane.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

Hasami’s scream echoed across the Unkaku’s deck as the ladder clanged loudly against the metal. Airmen and mechanics nearby, hearing the commotion, rushed over.

"Ahh... damn it!" Hasami groaned, clutching his right arm as he writhed in pain on the deck. It seemed he had taken a hard blow to his upper arm.

"The ladder must not have been secured! Are you alright, Hasami? Hang in there!" Chijiwa said loudly, playing innocent as he knelt down and took Hasami’s arm.

Hasami, wincing from the pain, glared up at Chijiwa with fury in his eyes.

"What are you trying to pull!?"

"Don’t move, stay still."

Chijiwa suddenly twisted Hasami’s thick arm behind his back.

A dull crack came from Hasami’s shoulder.

"AAARGHH!"

With his shoulder dislocated, Hasami let out a scream of agony. Chijiwa leaned in close to his ear and whispered in a low voice.

"Head to the medical bay. Unkaku will sink, but the crew will abandon ship before it goes down. Dive into the ocean. If you swim hard enough, a destroyer will pick you up. Live. You need to survive."

"You... You...!!"

"This war is wrong, where the best and brightest die first. When the war is over and Amatsukami begins its path to recovery, people like you should be leading the way. So don’t die. No matter how hard it is, you have to live."

"Don’t you dare... I refuse to live in shame!"

"It’s not shame. You’ll be a living witness. Tell the story of the Unkaku’s battle, of the Silent Squadron’s fight, to the children. To ensure our struggle isn’t in vain, you need to live. Represent all of us, Hasami."

"You bastard... Chijiwa... Damn you!"

Hasami’s bloodshot eyes glared at Chijiwa as he spat out curses. Mechanics, airmen, and the squadron leader rushed over. Chijiwa, acting nonchalant, called out, "He’s hurt! His arm’s broken! He can’t fly. Get a medic!"

A mechanic, biting his lip, yelled for a medic. The squadron leader assessed the injury and ordered Hasami to be taken to the medical bay.

As they forcibly restrained and carried him off, Hasami twisted his face in rage and shouted at Chijiwa.

"You planned this from the start, didn’t you!?"

Chijiwa smiled at his friend, taking in the angry outburst. It was the same calm smile he had worn on the Unkaku’s deck after the failed Seagull operation.

"Farewell, Hasami. It was an honour fighting under your command."

"I’ll never forgive you... never!"

"Take care of Yuki. Only you can do it. She’s a cry-baby, you know. Keep her company when she needs someone to talk to."

Surrounded by medics, Hasami was practically dragged off to the medical bay. After his shouts faded into the distance, Chijiwa sensed someone behind him and turned around.

"Lieutenants."

Sugino and Matsuda, standing side by side, had watched the entire exchange. Now, both saluted Chijiwa in unison. This would be the last time they fought together.

The ever-composed Matsuda spoke first, offering his final words.

"It has been my greatest honour to fly as your wingman until the very end."

Always cheerful and full of energy, Sugino smiled brightly, just as he always did.

"To the very end, I will accompany you. To the bottom of the sea or to the ends of the sky," Sugino declared tearfully.

Chijiwa gave him a troubled look. He didn’t know how to respond.

Instead, he simply saluted his wingmen.

The wind blew fiercely around them, but he hoped it carried his feelings to both of them.

After lowering his hand, he gave his orders.

"Don't throw your lives away. Your first priority is to survive and fight again."

"...Yes, sir!"

"Even if we can't return to Unkaku, if you can make it to Awajima, you should be able to crash-land. Don't rush to die. The combat skills you've honed are this nation’s treasures. I won't allow you to waste them at your own discretion."

Both of his wingmen straightened their expressions. Chijiwa's orders were absolute to them. They clicked their heels and saluted once again.

"Yes, sir!"

"Good... now go."

Matsuda sprinted off toward his plane. Sugino started to move but then stopped, turning back to shout with a tearful voice.

"Lieutenant, please, you survive too! Live and fight with us again!"

After his plea, Sugino dashed to his own plane.

Chijiwa watched his wingmen’s backs as they left, then grabbed the ladder of his Beagle aircraft.

Without further interference, he climbed up and slid into the cockpit.

Thanks to the Iyo Island garrison holding the line, he had spent the last two months in practice flights, and he was now fully accustomed to the controls of the Shinden Kai. It felt like an extension of his own body.

A mechanic climbed the ladder and stuck his head into the cockpit to relay a few final precautions before handing Chijiwa something they had secretly arranged beforehand.

"Thank you."

Chijiwa smiled as he accepted the record of Mizumori Misora. For his final flight, he wanted to soar with Yuki’s voice in his ears.

He fired up the hydrogen fuel cells.

The DC motor roared to life, and the tail propeller whined as the powerful heart of the Shinden Kai shook the deck beneath it.

He looked out through the windscreen.

The familiar, clear summer sky greeted him.

It was just like two years ago, when he had flown from this same Unkaku in the failed Seagull operation.

That same endless blue stretched before him now, and somewhere within it, the flagship of the Bardot Fleet, Gran Ideal, awaited.

Chijiwa no longer clung to life. All that remained was pure resolve.

"It's time, Seagull."

He opened the throttle.

The Shinden Kai shot forward at full speed. Over boost kicked in, and the surge of G-forces pressed down on him, feeling just right.

"Let's settle this."

The wheels lifted off the deck. Out of the corner of his left eye, he saw the deck crew waving their hats as they faded from view. The hum of the propeller shifted in pitch as it merged with the sky.

The black silhouette of his plane tore through the summer sky.

He climbed steadily higher.

At an altitude of 6,700 meters, his favorited altitude, Chijiwa looked back. Twelve bomb-laden Shinden planes followed him. With Hasami gone, Chijiwa, as second in command, was now leading the fighter squadron. Grabbing the radio, he spoke to his men.

"Head toward Ootachi Bay. The enemy will probably pick us up on radar and send fighters to intercept. If you're spotted, ditch the bombs and fight. That’s all."

It was an order that might have made the aviation staff frown, but carrying bombs meant they wouldn’t make it to the carrier before being shot down. Chijiwa had long since abandoned any hope of bombing the enemy fleet.

"It’s not going to happen."

The enemy’s interception system was highly computerized, and with their current equipment, the Imperial forces couldn’t break through unless they launched a surprise attack. It was wiser to jettison the bombs and engage the enemy fighters instead. Hearing the replies from his wingmen over the radio, Chijiwa set his course toward the Bardot Fleet.

The thirteen bomb-laden Shinden planes flew in formation, heading northwest.

Just after the Bardot Fleet had disappeared from Ootachi Bay, chasing after the Miyoshi Fleet—

120 nautical miles southwest of Awajima, in the midst of a downpour, a fleet was moving.

At the centre were the super-dreadnought battleships Hida and Settsu, flanked by two light cruisers and four destroyers, making up a total of eight ships—this was the first strike fleet, also known as the Yagami Fleet.

Upon receiving word that the Bardot Fleet had pursued the decoy, Commander Yagami immediately ordered the fleet to advance. Determined to redeem the disgrace of the Battle of Est Miranda, Yagami was full of resolve.

To complete the mission, they couldn’t afford to move slowly on the water. They had to break into Ootachi Bay before the Bardot Fleet could destroy the decoy.

"This special surface strike mission will be carried out with lightning speed."

Leaving their escort behind, the two super-dreadnought battleships, equipped with lifting devices, would storm into Ootachi Bay from the air to engage in a gunfight. That was Yagami's decision. Since the light cruisers and destroyers lacked lifting devices, they would arrive at Ootachi Bay later.

The lifting devices roared to life, and the two 260-meter-long, 60,000-ton steel behemoths rose into the air, sending up enormous plumes of water. Their 50 cm main gun turrets, gleaming in dull silver, pointed toward Awajima.

Climbing to an altitude of 500 meters, the two super-dreadnought flying battleships, pride of the Imperial Navy, flew toward Ootachi Bay at over 50 knots.

Their escort fleet followed behind, pushing themselves to the limit in pursuit.

Their targets: the Imperial escort fleet guarding Ootachi Bay and the 100,000 marines poised to land.

Carrying the fate of the Amatsukami Empire, the surface strike fleet was closing in on the decisive battle zone.

"We have the Miyoshi Fleet within range of our aerial attacks!" reported the operations officer in the combat command centre on the third floor of the Gran Ideal, flagship of the Bardot Fleet.

Bardot's smile widened. They had finally caught their quarry by the scruff of its neck. Now, all that remained was to pummel it into submission.

His orders were aggressive.

"Launch the attack squadrons! All planes, take off!"

In a display of his prowess as a military leader, over 1,500 fighters, bombers, and torpedo planes were dispatched to attack the Miyoshi Fleet.

The order was instantly transmitted to the 20 carriers.

On the decks, row upon row of aircraft began to rev their engines in unison.

From the cross-shaped formation, Aires V fighters began to take off one after another. The swarm of cutting-edge aircraft, equipped with DC motors and hydrogen fuel cells, circled in the air, awaiting the bombers and torpedo planes.

The summer sky was filled with aircraft. It was like a swarm of insects clawing at the heavens. The ominous sight of these aircraft forming a precise formation in the air was a stark display of how far the Bardot Fleet had outstripped the Imperial Air Force in skill and training.

Bardot, in high spirits, watched his elite forces soar into the sky.

That accursed Unkaku would finally meet its end. After being humiliated by that demon carrier time and time again, he would finally settle the score today.

"I wanted to see the monkeys die with my own eyes."

That was his only regret.

At that moment, a new report came from the picket destroyer at the front of the fleet.

"Thirteen enemy aircraft approaching from the southeast!"

It appeared to be an attack squadron from Unkaku and Manazuru. A pitifully small force of just thirteen planes, but given the current state of the Imperial forces, that was likely the best they could muster.

Bardot snorted in derision. They weren’t worth panicking over. However, there was a chance that one of the planes could be a Beagle.

He had an ace in the fighter cover capable of matching the Beagle.

The question was, which was stronger—the Mad Dog or the Seagull?

Watching that would be entertaining enough.

In what would otherwise be an inevitable and boring battle, it wouldn’t be so bad to add a little flair, like a duel reminiscent of an ancient battlefield.

Bardot himself had often scoffed at the romanticism of war.

But despite that, he couldn’t help but feel moved by the challenge brought to him by the Mad Dog in the Battle of Est Miranda. That reckless behaviour, confusing modern warfare with a knightly duel, had stirred something within Bardot himself.

"Don’t you want to see a monkey die with your own eyes?" Bardot asked his chief of staff, Commander Ramon. Ramon gave him a puzzled look.

"What do you mean?"

Bardot clasped his hands behind his back and gazed out at the distant sky.

"We’ll invite the Mad Dog here and shoot him down. In front of the entire fleet, we’ll let him duel with the Seagull."

"Isn’t that... a bit too much theatrics?"

Bardot was already watching the area of the sky where the Mad Dog might appear. He couldn’t suppress the excitement building in his chest. The sight of the Mad Dog, so outdated, even reminded him of his younger self.

"Ah, it will be a show. A duel in the summer sky, where the finest warriors from both sides announce themselves and settle the score. In this boring battlefield, we can at least add some flair."

"......"

Ramon was silent for a moment before responding.

"It would certainly boost the morale of our troops. However... if, by any chance, the Seagull were to lose..."

"The cover squadron will shoot him down. Either way, he won’t leave here alive."

"...As you wish."

Bardot smiled and gave the order to the escort fighter squadron.

"After taking off, wait directly above Gran Ideal for the enemy attack squadron. If there’s a Beagle among them, make a cage for him and invite him in. Let him and the Seagull duel inside that cage. No one else interferes—this is a show. Everyone, bring your popcorn."

The order was carried out, and a new Aires V was lifted from the hangar to the flight deck of Gran Ideal.

Under the bright summer sun, the Seagull emblem painted on the nose shone vividly.

A young pilot approached the Seagull aircraft with calm steps and climbed into the cockpit.

The propeller roared to life, and the Seagull aircraft took off gracefully, soaring into the sky in an instant.

One after another, other escort planes also took off. From the other carriers, more escort squadrons launched until a formation of approximately 350 fighter planes began circling above the fleet.

They waited patiently for the enemy attack squadron to arrive.

Eventually—faint glimmers appeared in the south-eastern sky.

It was the Imperial Fleet's attack squadron. The number was so small that it was almost pitiful.

It was too quiet.

As Chijiwa gripped the control stick, an unsettling thought crossed his mind.

The distance between his aircraft and the Bardot fleet was closing without any resistance.

Surely their radar had already detected them. By now, intercepting fighter squadrons should have been attacking. Yet, nothing came.

—Are we being invited to the dance floor?

That was the impression he had.

Despite their tendency to deride the enemy as "monkeys," the Bardot forces sometimes showed surprising respect for brave opponents. Last year, at the Battle of Est Miranda, the enemy hadn't fired a single anti-aircraft round during a daring formation somersault by Chijiwa’s squadron. Later, they even sent a formal letter offering a duel.

It wasn't only the Amatsukami who were proud; the Levamme people also carried a deep sense of pride. When they recognized courage and nobility in their enemies, they often responded with an unexpected level of honour.

—Bardot must be calling me.

There was no tangible proof, but this unnaturally quiet sky had to be connected to Bardot’s respect for the daring manoeuvres Chijiwa had pulled in the past.

—At least, I hope that’s the case.

Flying through the still sky, he clung to that faint hope.

Eventually—

The blue sky ahead began to darken slightly. The colour of the waves below seemed ominous. It was a barely perceptible change in hue, but Chijiwa could feel it. Something massive and unnatural was looming ahead, exerting its oppressive presence over the sky and sea.

He marked his current position on the navigation chart. By calculating flight time, speed, and heading, he could estimate his location. Thanks to the Iyo Island garrison’s efforts, he had spent two months conducting exercises off Awajima, and now he had a solid sense of where he was flying.

Grabbing the radio, Chijiwa communicated with his squadron. In the Shinden Kai, radio communications allowed them to exchange information with the entire squadron as well as the fleet command centres.

"It seems our friends are expecting us. Prepare for battle."

Multiple voices responded over the crackling static of the radio.

Chijiwa peered ahead.

The sky continued to darken, and soon he saw it—a massive swarm of over 300 Aires V fighters slowly circling in the air.

Beneath them—there it was. The infamous cross-shaped formation of the Levamme fleet, sprawling across the sea. Over 160 ships formed an awe-inspiring sight. The immense tapestry of war power woven by the Levamme Kingdom stretched 15 kilometres across the ocean. The more he looked, the more impossible it seemed to defeat such an enemy.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Chijiwa’s mouth.

"They don’t even think they need to intercept us, Bardot."

It was clear—his squadron of 13 Shinden Kai planes wasn’t considered a threat. The 300 escort fighters had clearly seen them but made no move to engage.

Once again, Chijiwa grabbed the radio.

"All planes, jettison your bombs."

He was the first to drop the 250-kilogram bomb strapped to his belly. Immediately, the plane felt lighter. His 12 wingmen followed suit, discarding their bombs as well. Then Chijiwa addressed the entire squadron.

"From this point forward, there’s no going back. For those of you who aren't ready to die, fly to Awajima. If you want to die, come with me. I’ll leave the choice to each of you."

He spoke bluntly, hoping that at least some of them would survive, then put the radio down.

The formation of Aires V fighters circled in the sky directly above the Levamme fleet's cross-shaped arrangement. The enemy planes were stacked in four layers—at altitudes of 6,000 meters, 4,000 meters, 2,000 meters, and 100 meters—forming a massive cylindrical formation about two kilometres in radius.

Chijiwa knew exactly what this was.

"A sky cage."

As soon as he realized it, a fierce grin spread across Chijiwa’s face.

"Bardot, you're the most entertaining opponent I’ve ever faced."

This was clearly a challenge from Bardot. The enemy planes had formed a cylindrical trap in the sky. Levamme soldiers were known to create human walls around duellists, ensuring that neither could escape until one was defeated. This was their airborne coliseum.

"Come in, monkey, into this cage," Bardot seemed to beckon. "We'll let you have your duel in front of everyone."

Such a respectful invitation could not be turned down. The entire Bardot fleet, including the 300 escort fighters, was watching to see if Chijiwa would accept the challenge.

"None of you are to interfere," Chijiwa ordered his wingmen over the radio. "This is my fight with the Seagull."

He had already prepared Matsuda and Sugino for this possibility back in the Unkaku’s ready room. If Hasami had heard, he would’ve been furious, but fortunately, the preparations had gone unnoticed, and his wingmen complied without resistance.

Chijiwa increased his speed.

Alone, he flew casually toward the enemy’s domain, as if on a stroll.

—At last, we’ll meet.

That was the only thought in his heart.

Life or death, none of it mattered.

For two years, he had wandered through countless battlefields, waiting for this day. He had survived the hellish war, dreaming of this moment.

Now, his dream would finally come true, on the grandest stage imaginable.

Chijiwa dipped his wings as he entered the "cage" between the second and third layers of enemy planes.

As if by mutual understanding, none of the Aires V fighters fired at him. Inside the cylindrical formation, it felt as though he was surrounded by towering walls of steel-blue and silver-gray.

Glancing down at the sea, Chijiwa saw that the enemy ships were aligned in a cross-shaped formation, with five aircraft carriers at the centre and about 30 cruisers and destroyers guarding them in a two-kilometre radius. If the battle were to descend to sea level, the fight would likely take place amidst the narrow gaps between the carriers.

The odds were far from fair. The entire fleet was on the Seagull’s side, giving him a significant advantage. But Chijiwa couldn’t complain—after all, two years ago, the Seagull had outmanoeuvred the Unkaku squadron in a mere reconnaissance plane and shot him down. A little handicap didn’t seem so bad now.

Chijiwa noticed that Matsuda and Sugino had entered the cage as well, mingling with the enemy planes, yet not a single shot was fired. Some of the Aires V pilots even dipped their wings as if to acknowledge the bravery of the three Shinden Kai planes flying into a cage of 300 enemy aircraft.

The Levamme soldiers were displaying their knightly honour.

In response, Chijiwa would show them the pride of a samurai.

With this resolution burning in his heart—

From within the enemy formation, a single plane slowly emerged.

At the same altitude as Chijiwa—3,000 meters—it approached, leveling off about 300 meters away, beginning to circle.

Chijiwa’s hands were sweating on the control stick.

He calmed his breathing, telling himself to stay composed.

—Don’t get too excited. Stay cold. The strongest warriors are the calmest on the battlefield.

He repeated this to himself, but his heart continued to race.

The circling enemy pilot cast a sharp gaze at him from the cockpit. The distance was too great to make out any facial features, but there was no doubt who this was.

Because—

On the nose of the plane, emblazoned in bright colours, was the emblem of the Seagull.

Chijiwa felt a surge of emotion from deep within him.

"You're a good man, Seagull."

With deep gratitude, Chijiwa tightened his grip on the controls.

The time for joy would come later.

As a proud member of the Unkaku Air Squadron, part of the famed Silent Squadron of the Amatsukami Navy—

"I’m going to take you down, Seagull."

Chijiwa’s steel-gray eyes grew cold, a quiet intensity glowing in their depths.

This battle would be fought in a confined arena—a two-kilometre-radius cylindrical cage, with altitudes ranging from 100 to 6,000 meters.

The Seagull circled at the same altitude, maintaining a 300-meter horizontal distance.

This was like a mock dogfight.

The battle would begin when both pilots had each other in their direct line of sight.

In air combat terms, the moment they "cut each other’s wingtips" would mark the start of a duel that would continue until one of them died.

Chijiwa’s gaze was fixed on the Seagull, positioned just off his right wingtip.

The Seagull gradually increased speed, closing the distance between them.

Chijiwa could now see the intense, predatory look in the Seagull’s eyes—the same fierce gaze of a knight he had seen when they first met.

The eyes of Chijiwa and the Seagull clashed in the air.

(Can you really shoot me down?)

Chijiwa heard a voice in his head.

It was probably a hallucination. There was no way they could communicate through words.

But Chijiwa smirked and sneered in response.

—I’ll take you down, just like the first time we met.

He sent his unspoken message to the Seagull.

The Seagull grinned, lifting the corner of his lips.

(Last time, I won.)

—Then we're tied, one-to-one.

(Let’s settle this.)

—Whoever survives will be the winner.

(Agreed.)

Through the sky, an unspoken dialogue passed between them as Chijiwa glared at the Seagull.

And then—

Their wingtips aligned.

"Here we go, Seagull!!"

(Let’s finish this, Beagle!!)

The sleek black wings of the Shinden Kai twisted.

The silver wings of the Aires V gleamed in the sunlight.

Both planes immediately went full throttle.

Chijiwa tilted his plane into a vertical roll, with the right wing pointing down at the ocean and the left wing aimed at the sky. He increased speed rapidly.

The tremendous G-forces crushed his body, forcing his jaw upward as he glared through the top of the cockpit.

The Aires V was also in a vertical roll, carving a smaller circle inside the cage of enemy planes.

This was a textbook horizontal dogfight. Both pilots pulled their control sticks to the limit, trying to outmanoeuvre each other with a tighter turn radius to get behind their opponent.

In a dogfight where aircraft performance is evenly matched, the outcome depends on who can endure the heavy control stick, who can sustain their lung capacity, and whose body can withstand the intense G-forces without passing out. As centrifugal force increases, blood flow to the brain is cut off, causing the pilot’s vision to narrow and eventually darken into unconsciousness.

No matter how hard it gets, no matter how heavy the control stick feels, no matter how restricted the blood flow becomes—whoever gives up first loses.

Chijiwa twisted his neck to the limit, looking up and behind him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the Seagull. He fought through the pain, keeping his eyes locked on the enemy. If he loosened his grip on the control stick, his turn radius would widen, and the Seagull would take position behind him.

If the Seagull got behind him, there would be few chances to recover. So, he endured. He had to.

The sides of his head screamed in agony. It was the aviation neurosis that had developed during his time with the Silent Squadron. A sharp, drill-like pain pierced his temples as he continued the turn.

But Chijiwa refused to ease his grip on the control stick.

He kept his eyes glued to the Seagull, fighting to keep his vision from going dark. The G-forces were immense, but he held on, determined to turn tighter than his opponent.

—The Seagull is enduring the same pain.

He wasn’t the only one suffering. The Seagull was enduring this agony too. The one who gave in to the pain first would bloom as a fiery flower on the ocean below.

But—

“...!”

Chijiwa noticed something was wrong. The Seagull was gradually, bit by bit, moving toward his rear. The silhouette he had kept in his peripheral vision was slipping out of sight.

This meant that the Seagull had a tighter turn radius.

—Is the Aires V's turning performance superior to the Shinden Kai?

That thought crept through the back of Chijiwa’s mind.

At the Battle of Est Miranda—indeed—

Back then, Mido had engaged the Seagull in a turning fight and lost. The Imperial Navy’s top ace had been outmanoeuvred and shot down.

That defeat wasn’t because of a difference in piloting skill, but rather the turning performance of the Shinden being inferior to the Aires, wasn’t it?

—Is that what happened, Mido?

He silently asked his old friend, now a memory.

Something inside Chijiwa sensed that there was an anomaly with the enemy aircraft.

He took another close look at the Seagull’s plane. His trained eyes detected something strange on the Aires V’s wingtips.

The plane was slightly different from when it had been cruising earlier.

There was an odd protrusion extending from the wingtips. It seemed to be a new mechanism that deployed automatically based on the plane’s turning speed.

Chijiwa quickly identified the feature.

“Automatic combat flaps!”

It was a special flap designed to deploy during sharp turns to prevent the wingtips from stalling. He had heard rumours about it, but he hadn’t expected it to be operational.

Chijiwa realized the danger he was in. Now that he had seen the automatic flaps in action, he had to acknowledge an unwelcome truth.

—The Aires V has superior turning performance to the Shinden Kai.

This meant that in close combat, the Aires was stronger than the Shinden. In the past, the Imperial Navy had instructed its pilots to avoid dogfighting with Shindens, but now, the Aires could confidently step into the ring.

—In that case…

Chijiwa stopped turning and dived toward the ocean.

Letting the Seagull get behind him was inevitable. His best option now was to bait the enemy into attacking, find an opening, and counter.

He entered a steep dive from 2,500 meters, inverted.

The cross-shaped formation of the Gran Ideal fleet grew rapidly larger as he descended. It was a 2,000-meter dive. The Shinden Kai’s airframe groaned under the strain. After enduring a vertical roll, this sudden dive would have caused most pilots to black out.

But the Seagull was following him without hesitation. The distance between them was about 300 meters. At 400 meters above the ocean, Chijiwa pulled back hard on the control stick. The G-forces were immense, but he managed to pull the nose of the Shinden Kai up just before hitting the water, skimming the surface as he went into a horizontal glide.

The Seagull was still behind him. The Seagull skilfully dodged left and right, trying to shake Chijiwa off, but Chijiwa clung tightly to his tail.

Chijiwa smirked as he glared at the Seagull over his shoulder. The situation was now in the Seagull’s favour.

Two years ago, their roles had been reversed. Back then, the Seagull had outmanoeuvred Chijiwa while piloting an inferior aircraft, with the future empress of Levamme in the back seat, dodging all of Chijiwa’s attacks. Now, it was Chijiwa’s turn to dodge every shot.

“Come on, Seagull.”

He could see the Seagull peering through the gun sight. Both planes were flying at over 700 kilometres per hour. A 20mm cannon shell would take about one or two seconds to reach him, leaving only a brief moment to evade.

The Seagull closed in.

Chijiwa watched over his shoulder, waiting for the moment.

But he couldn’t keep his eyes on the Seagull forever. There was a wall of enemy planes ahead.

A blue-gray wall loomed closer. In front of him, the enemy ships in the cross formation also stood like an iron wall, with their anti-aircraft guns aimed at him. The Seagull still hadn’t fired. The horizontal distance to the wall had shrunk to less than 300 meters. The massive gray hull of a heavy cruiser filled his vision.

If he got too close to that wall—

“Gah!”

Chijiwa kicked the rudder pedal and yanked the control stick to the side.

The Shinden Kai skidded sideways. A hail of 20mm cannon and anti-aircraft fire tore through the empty space where he had just been.

The Seagull hadn’t fired. It was the enemy planes and the heavy cruiser forming the wall. They must have thought Chijiwa was trying to escape from the cage and opened fire as a warning.

“Interesting.”

Flying parallel to the wall, Chijiwa glared at the enemy.

This was part of the Levamme people’s traditional duelling customs. In a duel, if one of the combatants tried to flee, the bystanders would strike them and force them back into the duel until it was settled. The gunfire wasn’t meant to shoot him down but to push him back into the arena.

—The battle space is tight.

The four-kilometre-wide battlefield created by the enemy’s formation and planes was perfect for spectators, but too small for a proper dogfight. The restricted space meant the fight would end quickly.

Chijiwa flew just above the surface of the ocean, turning back toward the centre of the cylindrical formation.

Ahead of him were five aircraft carriers, including the Gran Ideal. Their black hulls towered like massive fortresses in the sea, cantered around the Gran Ideal’s 260-meter-long bulk. If only he had torpedoes—he’d love to slam one into their hulls. But the Shinden Kai's machine guns were useless against these giants.

Chijiwa flew straight toward the five carriers.

The Seagull was still following. Swiftly, relentlessly. Chijiwa lowered his altitude even further.

Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten.

The ocean was so close now that he could almost touch it. Only an elite pilot could follow him at this altitude, but the Seagull did so with ease.

Chijiwa increased his speed even more, now flying at 730 kilometres per hour. At this altitude and speed, he was the only pilot in the Amatsukami Navy capable of such precise flying. One slight mistake would send him crashing into the sea.

But—

“...!”

Chijiwa glanced back and grinned so wide his cheeks hurt. The Seagull was closing the distance, flying at the same altitude.

“You’re incredible, Seagull!”

His shout of admiration echoed in his cockpit just as the Aires V opened fire.

The twin 20mm cannons spat out fiery red tongues, reaching for the Shinden Kai’s tail.

Chijiwa kicked the rudder hard.

His Shinden Kai slid sideways just above the ocean’s surface.

A spray of seawater shot up, showering the Seagull.

But the Seagull burst through the spray, claws bared, mercilessly swinging at Chijiwa.

The air seemed to tear apart in a bright red slash as the Seagull’s cannons raked the sky.

The Demon Dog dodged to the right, just in time.

The Seagull anticipated the move, smoothly flowing to the right.

Ahead, the massive silhouette of the Gran Ideal loomed.

The Demon Dog weaved between the carriers. The entire crew on the decks erupted into cheers at the breathtaking duel unfolding before them. They cursed the Demon Dog and cheered for the Seagull, whistling and clapping as the chase unfolded.

“Guh...!!”

Chijiwa grunted. The gap between the two carriers was only about 100 meters wide. Yet the Seagull relentlessly pursued him, showing no fear of crashing. He couldn’t shake him off. If he tried to dodge, he’d risk slamming into one of the ships—this was turning into a battle of wits.

The Seagull was closing in, reaching the perfect range for a kill shot.

His wings spat out lines of fire, scarring the sky with glowing, molten-hot bullets.

On either side, the towering walls of the carriers stood only ten meters away.

Chijiwa’s eyes flashed.

He pressed the rudder ever so slightly and slipped just enough to avoid the shots.

The looming side of the carrier was only ten meters away, closing in fast.

Just before impact, Chijiwa stomped the opposite rudder.

The Demon Dog skidded to the side. Even the slightest adjustment at this speed had a huge impact on the plane’s movement.

But as he veered, the Seagull was already waiting.

Just as Chijiwa’s tail passed in front of the Seagull’s sights, the enemy pilot fired another volley.

At that moment, Chijiwa’s plane seemed to disappear.

The ocean sprayed up.

He had dodged to the right by the skin of his teeth. That split-second reaction had saved his life.

The erratic, high-risk manoeuvres continued, rapidly depleting Chijiwa’s energy reserves. The sharp pain from his aviation neurosis only worsened, but if he slowed down for even a moment, the Seagull would finish him off. He needed to break away and gain altitude, but pulling up now would expose his aircraft’s upper surface to the Seagull, giving him a perfect shot at the cockpit.

—Hold on.

Chijiwa told himself to stay focused. The control stick felt heavier due to fatigue, but a single misstep in fine control could send him crashing into the ocean. He summoned all his concentration, keeping his eyes on both the sea and the Seagull.

He aimed once more for the wall of enemy planes forming the cylindrical arena.

To turn the tables, he would have to use that wall to his advantage.

The Demon Dog sped toward the wall at full throttle, maintaining his ultra-low altitude.

In no time, the blue-gray wall and the outer edge of the ring formation came into view. The anti-aircraft guns of the enemy ships forming the perimeter were trained on him.

The Seagull was still on his tail. The horizontal distance between them shrank.

The distance to the wall was now less than 200 meters.

Chijiwa gently turned, flying parallel to the wall. Slowly, he began to increase altitude, hoping to stay unnoticed by the enemy.

The Seagull stayed right on him. On Chijiwa’s left, countless Aires V planes flew from the front and passed behind him. The three hundred planes were all executing left turns, while Chijiwa was flying a right turn.

The gap between him and the Seagull narrowed. They were now flying at an altitude of 20 meters.

Just as the Seagull’s wings began to glow in preparation to fire, Chijiwa kicked the left rudder pedal.

The Demon Dog veered toward the wall.

Just before crashing into the enemy formation, the anti-aircraft guns opened fire in warning.

Chijiwa kicked the right rudder pedal, dodging the gunfire.

The bullets meant for him streaked toward the Seagull. Like the Demon Dog, the Seagull evaded the shots with precise manoeuvres.

—This is it.

Summoning all his courage, Chijiwa finally pulled the control stick back.

With a high-pitched whine, the Shinden Kai climbed diagonally upward.

The Seagull didn’t fire. Instead, it stayed on Chijiwa’s tail, closing in. If the Seagull had shot, there was a risk of hitting the Aires V planes forming the wall. To avoid friendly fire, the Seagull missed a prime opportunity. The cage built by the Seagull’s allies had, ironically, worked against him.

Chijiwa ascended at an angle, glancing back to see the Seagull still pursuing him.

In this situation, there was only one thing left to do.

And if he did it, the Seagull would be forced to reveal its own trump card.

—The next move will decide it.

Chijiwa understood this perfectly.

Two years ago, the roles had been reversed. Back then, Chijiwa had chased the Seagull, predicting the next elite manoeuvre his opponent would pull. Now, the Seagull was chasing him, likely predicting Chijiwa’s next move.

If that was the case...

—I’ll stay one step ahead of the Seagull’s prediction.

As he climbed through the sky, Chijiwa steadied his breathing.

What he was about to attempt was something he had never even tried in training.

In theory, it should work. He had run through this scenario countless times in his head, manipulating imaginary controls and rudder pedals. He regretted never having the chance to test it in reality, but there was no use lamenting now.

—To defeat the Seagull, I’ll have to surpass my own limits.

Chijiwa steeled himself.

Ahead, at the peak of his diagonal loop, the airspace where magic could be worked briefly appeared.

“I’ll dance with you, Seagull.”

He glanced back at his ultimate dance partner.

“For the final performance.”

Chijiwa eased off the left rudder and kicked the right.

In that moment, the plane seemed to defy gravity.

The Demon Dog was momentarily suspended in mid-air, as if all forces had cancelled each other out.

—Left corkscrew.

The Seagull—overbalanced.

As the Demon Dog's fangs lunged for the Seagull’s flank—

A vacuum suddenly formed around the Seagull as well.

The silver wings flipped.

In a graceful, impossible move, the Seagull swam through the vacuum.

—Ismael Turn.

Its wings fluttered.

Gravity ceased.

The Seagull drifted effortlessly through space, repositioning itself.

The Demon Dog was now facing the empty air where the Seagull had been moments before.

The Seagull drifted behind him.

From the Seagull’s perspective, the Demon Dog’s vulnerable flank was now exposed.

The Seagull raised its claws.

Chijiwa had predicted this.

He knew that if he initiated the left corkscrew, the Seagull would counter with the Ismael Turn.

The one who executed their move last would end up behind their opponent. This was how their duel had played out two years ago as well.

So, to defeat the Seagull...

“I have to go beyond this.”

From the aerial manoeuvre pushed to its structural limit, Chijiwa performed yet another manoeuvre that surpassed the aircraft’s boundary.

—Endure this, Shinden Kai.

With a firm resolve, Chijiwa tilted the control stick to the side.

Simultaneously, he opened the throttle to its maximum.

The plane let out a groan at its limit. The rivets holding together the Duralumin armour were about to burst. The wings bent, seemingly on the verge of snapping.

Chijiwa had never left his beloved plane's maintenance to the mechanics alone; he inspected, reinforced, and serviced it himself every single day. He trusted the strength of the plane, which he had carefully nurtured and adjusted like his own child.

He opened the throttle, and the load increased further.

As his vision began to darken, Chijiwa forced it back open with all his strength. His blood reversed course. The nearly 7G of force compressed his entire body, halting his breathing.

The sky distorted.

"Double corkscrew."

Beyond the first corkscrew, he ventured further.

To showcase a dance of the skies that no one had ever seen.

—Seagull, I'll show this to you.

With the sound of his clenched teeth shattering, Chijiwa fixed his bulging eyes, blood vessels visible, onto the Seagull.

The first vacuum tore open, and from within, a second vacuum emerged.

The Demon Dog danced in the heart of that void.

Suspended at the precise point where structural limits and stall harmonized—

As it slid diagonally through the sky, its nose pointed directly at the enemy.

Once again, the Demon Dog’s fangs were aimed at the Seagull’s flank.

The Seagull had predicted Beagle’s move.

He was sure that Beagle would pull off a left corkscrew. With that confidence, the Seagull entered a diagonal loop, following Beagle’s trajectory.

Sure enough, just before reaching the top of the loop, the Shinden Kai vanished from sight.

The direction of the step was clear. Like something detached from gravity, Beagle maintained an inexplicable floating state while pointing its nose towards the Seagull, performing a turn.

It was a mesmerizingly graceful move by the Demon Dog.

Were it not for the war, applause and cheers would have been well-deserved. Beagle's connection with the sky was so tangible that it was almost painful to watch.

However.

There was no way the Seagull could allow itself to be easily shot down.

While continuing to pursue, the Seagull executed an S-class aerial manoeuvre.

"Ismael Turn."

With the same exacting footwork as Beagle’s, the Seagull conjured its own vacuum in the sky.

It danced in perfect imitation of Beagle's move.

Even the slightest error in controlling these delicate movements would spell defeat. Yet the Seagull slid diagonally downward through the air, manoeuvring into the Demon Dog’s blind spot.

And then—through the windscreen, the Demon Dog’s flank appeared.

The Seagull placed its finger on the trigger of its 20mm cannons.

But.

—This isn’t over yet.

So far, the sequence of events was exactly like the battle two years ago.

However, both pilots had since survived numerous battlefields. Beagle's aerial skills had likely reached the level of a god. There was no way a top-class pilot like Beagle would remain at the same skill level as back then.

Given Beagle's current prowess, he would most likely—

Corkscrew again.

The Seagull predicted as much. Admiring and respecting Beagle’s abilities more than anyone, the Seagull knew what his rival would do next.

So he didn’t fire. Instead, he calmly observed Beagle’s next move.

As expected, the Demon Dog tilted its aircraft even further.

Swimming through the fine balance of gravity and thrust, Beagle executed a second left corkscrew. Its elegance was beyond words. The skill was so godlike that it sent chills down the Seagull’s spine.

Like discovering a current flowing through an endless sea, Beagle’s control was both bold and astonishingly precise. It was beautiful to watch, but the cockpit must have been a living hell due to the centrifugal forces.

A fleeting vacuum appeared in the summer sky. Within it, the pitch-black aircraft floated gently, spinning like a top.

Its nose stopped perfectly, as if tied by an invisible string, aimed directly at the Seagull’s flank.

—How beautiful.

It was a breathtaking manoeuvre, one that made the Seagull mutter in admiration. Surely, the three hundred planes of the escort fleet and the nearly ten thousand crew members of the Bardot fleet were all equally entranced by the Demon Dog.

But if that’s the case—

“Then I, too…”

The Seagull’s eyes burned with fierce intensity.

“I’ll surpass my limits.”

He had never tried this before. Just imagining the strain this would put on both his aircraft and his body was terrifying. But it had to be done. He couldn’t afford to be shot down here.

—If Beagle can do it.

—Then there’s no way I can’t.

The Seagull pressed the left rudder pedal slightly, then kicked the right one.

The air twisted.

He opened the throttle to its maximum.

With the strain of the first Ismael Turn already having exhausted his respiratory system, the Seagull’s body was now subjected to even more pressure. The G-force constricted his entire body. The air was sucked from his lungs, and his blood, driven by centrifugal force, rushed toward the extremities of his body.

It felt as though a massive landslide was crushing him.

His vision darkened. Blood was no longer reaching his brain. But he forced his eyes open.

He could feel the Aires V crying out through the control stick. Any miscalculation, and a sudden shift in the controls would cause the aircraft to disintegrate.

He pushed beyond the extreme.

The Seagull slid through the vacuum he had created, plunging downward. His temples throbbed with pain. The control stick, the flexing wings, and the tail section all sent messages of the Aires V’s agony.

—Hold on, Aires V.

The Seagull prayed.

With his vision on the verge of blacking out, he fought to stay conscious.

He poured all his strength into his arms, concentrating with every ounce of willpower. One wrong move could lead to a stall or catastrophic failure.

—Hold on, my body.

With blood trickling from his lips, the Seagull continued to glare at the Demon Dog.

The immense lateral G-force caused his hair to stand on end. His ribs groaned under the strain. It was nearly the maximum G-force a human body could withstand.

The invisible landslide threatened to crush him.

His muscles felt like they were tearing, and his organs seemed on the verge of rupture. It was agony. He couldn’t breathe.

—I won’t lose.

He forced his eyes open. But the impossible aerial manoeuvre was depriving his brain of oxygen without mercy.

The world blurred.

The Demon Dog’s silhouette, which had been clearly visible moments ago, began to fade. The overwhelming G-force from the second corkscrew was more than his body could handle.

—If I die…

Amid the distorted world, the Seagull heard a whisper from somewhere.

—That person will cry.

In the colourless, blurred world, a flicker of light exploded.

The Seagull opened his eyes wide.

Countless golden particles began to spread across his vision.

The gray world regained its colour. The sky, once dull and fading, returned to its brilliant summer blue.

The whisper grew louder.

—Don’t make her cry.

The darkening world filled with countless particles of light.

Before the Seagull’s eyes, a golden sky unfolded.

Amid the spray of blue and gold, there was a smile he would never forget.

The irreplaceable smile he had earned as a reward for that journey.

—Fana.

The Seagull forced his eyes wide open.

He summoned all his strength, pushing back against the 7G force crushing him.

“!!”

A roar erupted from him.

Gripping the control stick with both hands, he didn't care if his muscles tore apart, if his nerves frayed, if his bones shattered, or if his brain function deteriorated. Even if his blood sprayed out from his entire body, as long as he could complete this manoeuvre, that was all that mattered.

—Double Ismael Turn!!

Within a realm that exceeded all limits, there lay the ultimate aerial manoeuvre.

In that fleeting moment, the Seagull dominated the sky.

His silver wings swirled behind the dancing Demon Dog.

Sound returned. Power surged into his hands gripping the control stick.

He endured the torrent of centrifugal force that surpassed human limits—

And now, once again, the Demon Dog’s flank was exposed before the Seagull’s claws.

The Demon Dog had just finished his second corkscrew, pointing its nose at the space where the Seagull had been only moments ago.

Any further aerial manoeuvres would only result in the plane breaking apart in mid-air.

The duel was decided.

“It’s my win, Beagle!!”

The Seagull placed his finger on the trigger of his 20mm cannons.

The Seagull disappeared.

Right after completing his second corkscrew, the gray-blue silhouette that had been in view vanished as if by magic.

“What?”

In front of his cannons, there was only the blue sky.

A chill ran down Chijiwa’s spine, making his hair stand on end.

—Impossible.

—But if it’s the Seagull…

Chijiwa glanced back over his right shoulder.

There, floating in mid-air, the Seagull was pointing its 20mm cannons at Chijiwa’s exposed flank.

"……!!"

The Seagull had anticipated his double corkscrew.

Moreover, the Seagull had executed the same manoeuvre.

In a corkscrew, the one who executes the move later gets behind the other.

—Is this my loss?

For a brief moment, Chijiwa accepted it.

He was satisfied.

He had fought, fought, and fought some more... and now, he could finally rest in peace.

It was the perfect way to end things—a duel unmatched, concluding with an exchange of double corkscrews, a feat no one had ever seen before. It would go down in the annals of aerial combat history. So, if it ended here…

“Promise me.”

Suddenly, a voice echoed in his ear, returning to him.

“Promise you’ll come back if you shoot that man down.”

Chijiwa’s eyes widened in shock.

“Yuki.”

The beloved voice pierced through his heart.

His heart, pierced by that voice, found new life.

—It’s not time to give up yet.

Until the very end.

Even if his body shattered.

Even if the plane exploded into pieces.

Even if he spewed blood from his organs and died.

—He would surpass the limit beyond the limit!

“Oooooooohhh!!”

A primal roar erupted from Chijiwa.

The Yuki in his memory smiled.

Chijiwa hugged the control stick with both hands, as if cradling it.

Even if it cost him his life.

“I’ll shoot down the Seagull.”

Yuki.

He would fulfill their promise.

He released the foot bar and kicked the other one. Then, with all his remaining strength, he threw the throttle wide open and slammed the control stick down.

—Triple Corkscrew…!!

The Shinden Kai’s agonizing scream filled the cockpit.

The tail propeller roared with the sound of tearing steel. The resulting turbulence twisted the atmosphere into chaos.

The sky lost its colour.

The world began to crumble.

The air became a landslide.

The G-force that surpassed human endurance now bore down on Chijiwa’s exhausted body.

"…!!"

He could no longer even let out a sound. His body felt as though it would be crushed flat. Yet, no matter how excruciating the pain, the throttle remained wide open. The tremendous centrifugal force weighed down on him mercilessly, making it seem like his organs would be forced out of his mouth.

The atmosphere pressed down on him like solid rock, grinding him away.

There was no air left in his lungs. His blood was flowing in reverse.

The world spun around him.

He couldn’t tell where the sky was, where the clouds were, or where the sea lay.

The instruments in the cockpit were signalling anomalies. The rivets were lifting off, and the armour was peeling away.

The wings bent upward drastically. The tail vibrated. The shaking of the plane was unbearable.

His brain was being deprived of blood. His semicircular canals and inner ear were malfunctioning.

—I can’t see…!

His vision was darkening. It was the first time Chijiwa had experienced this. Was this the price of pushing his aerial manoeuvres beyond their control limits? It was a miracle that both the Shinden Kai and his own body were still holding together.

—It’s impossible after all.

As his vision dimmed, despair exploded within him.

Not only the Seagull, even the sky itself had disappeared...

—No, it hasn't.

A voice echoed from the back of his mind.

A strange force flowed into the hand gripping the control stick.

—You can do it.

In the darkness, Chijiwa saw another hand overlapping his right hand.

—Mido.

There was also someone’s hand over his left, holding the throttle lever.

—Kannonji.

He couldn’t see either of them, but an inexplicable power surged within Chijiwa.

—If it's you, Takeo, you can do it.

That’s what the voice said.

He forced his eyelids open.

At the centre of the darkness, a point of light was shining.

Fighting the overwhelming force that threatened to make him pass out, Chijiwa reached for that light.

—Beyond that light is the Seagull.

Blood streamed from his eyes, ears, and nose. His organs were bleeding internally, and the blood was reversing its flow.

Yet Chijiwa didn’t ease up on the throttle.

He endured, and endured, and kept enduring the 7.5 G-forces that far exceeded human limits.

—Give me that light.

With all his might, he prayed.

In the darkness, the faces of his fallen comrades appeared one after another.

They were the pilots of the Unkaku Air Corps, the Otonashi Air Corps, the countless pilots who had scattered across the sky.

The noble, proud, and courageous samurai of the skies who had defiantly rejected the future where they would be crushed and mocked as mere monkeys.

Chijiwa prayed. From the bottom, the deepest bottom of his soul, he prayed with all his being.

—Give me the future.

The light spread out.

The summer sky returned, and the sound of the atmosphere slicing through the air brushed against his ears.

Blood was gushing out from his entire body. He no longer knew if he was still conscious or not.

In the depths of Chijiwa’s mind, only his resolve, which had persisted for two years, remained.

—Shoot down the Seagull.

He forced his eyelids, which were trying to close, back open.

In his hazy vision, the Seagull’s flank came into view.

The Demon Dog’s third corkscrew manoeuvre had positioned him behind the Seagull.

His body twisted, and though the wings bent as if they were about to snap off, all four barrels of his 30mm cannons were trained directly on the Seagull.

Even though his vision, thoughts, and consciousness were slipping away, his body still remembered what to do.

Under the crushing weight of the G-forces squeezing his organs, Chijiwa pulled the trigger on the 30mm cannons.

A dull, crushing sound echoed across the sky.

Fragments of metal shattered into the azure sky.

An explosion erupted.

Gray-blue shards glistened in the summer sky.

All 300 of the escort fighters and the crew of the Bardo fleet watching from the sea were struck silent.

One plane, with its propeller shattered and falling diagonally from the sky.

Near the nose of that plane, a symbol—the Seagull—was painted.

A long, gray tail trailed from the engine cowling as the Seagull plummeted toward the sea.

Every soul present in the airspace was struck speechless.

The Empire’s strongest pilot had been defeated by the Demon Dog.

As everyone stood in stunned silence, the first to act was the Demon Dog.

The Demon Dog relentlessly pursued the falling Seagull.

To deliver the final blow.

The 300 escort fighters judged it that way.

In the next instant, the Aries V fighters descended on the Demon Dog like an avalanche.

They wouldn’t allow him to do such a thing.

None of the Empire’s pilots understood the character of Chijiwa.

“Nuuh…!!”

The moment the fight was decided, Chijiwa had already pushed the control stick forward.

Without hesitation, he dived, chasing after the falling Seagull.

The long, gray trail left behind by the Seagull stretched out before him. It seemed the engine had been damaged from the shot to the cowling. There wouldn’t be an explosion, but the plane was no longer controllable.

The battle was over.

Weaving through the smoke, Chijiwa opened the throttle. His body and mind, already far beyond exhaustion, were operating on instinct alone.

The joy of shooting down the Seagull had already passed. Now, as a fellow human being, there was something he had to do.

Chijiwa pulled up alongside the falling Seagull. When he opened the canopy, he saw the Seagull looking at him with a bitter smile.

("It’s your win.")

Just like the salute from two years ago, the same straightforward, unyielding expression looked back at him.

Chijiwa leaned out of his cockpit and waved with one hand.

“Jump!! Use your parachute and bail out!!”

The current altitude was 2,000 meters. If he parachuted now, the Bardo fleet would surely rescue him below.

But the Seagull showed no sign of jumping.

Facing Chijiwa, he shook his head from side to side.

("The rule is, the one who dies is the loser, right?")

That’s what Chijiwa thought he heard. Stunned for a moment, Chijiwa then raised his voice even louder.

“I don’t care!! Don’t die, you’re not allowed to die!!”

The Seagull looked at him curiously, then gazed behind Chijiwa, his face turning pale. Behind the Demon Dog, a swarm of 300 Aries V fighters were closing in, determined not to let him survive.

The Seagull pointed behind Chijiwa and shouted, his expression frantic.

("They’re coming from behind!! Run, Beagle!! Get out of here!!")

Chijiwa had known that for some time now. There was no way they would let him leave after winning a duel on this stage. He had already accepted death—it didn’t frighten him.

What mattered more was—

“You jump first!! I won’t bail out until you do!!”

("Fight!! You have to fight, you idiot!!")

“You jump, you idiot!!”

As the enemy fighters closed in from behind, they began firing on Chijiwa.

A storm of bullets rained down on the Demon Dog from behind.

Hundreds of holes were punched through his plane. Fragments of the aircraft pierced Chijiwa’s body, but he showed no sign of fleeing. He had no intention of running. He just continued to fall in parallel with the Seagull.

The Seagull’s scream, which shouldn’t have been audible, somehow reached Chijiwa’s ears.

("Evade!! Don’t die, Beagle, get out of here, fight!!")

With shrapnel lodged all over his body and his face covered in blood, Chijiwa continued to shout back.

“If you want me to survive, then you have to live!!”

As he fell, the Seagull contorted his face, shouting back in desperation.

("What are you saying, you idiot!! I’m your enemy!!")

Chijiwa took a deep breath.

With all his heart, he hurled his feelings at the Seagull.

"We’re the same, we’re both human!!"

The Seagull’s face twisted with overwhelming emotion—frustration, sorrow, and then affection, understanding.

What passed between them was friendship.

Language, borders, nations—they didn’t matter.

Only a strange bond between two men who loved the skies had passed through the battlefield.

With a contorted, tear-stained face, the Seagull let out a scream that echoed through the sky.

("Remember this, Beagle!!")

And with that, the Seagull bailed out of his cockpit.

Behind the falling Aries V, a white flower bloomed.

It was the Empire’s parachute, a pure white canopy.

Chijiwa glanced back at the Seagull.

High above him in the distant sky, the Seagull floated upwards with his parachute.

Chijiwa felt a deep sense of relief. He was grateful from the bottom of his soul that the Seagull hadn’t died.

“Farewell, Seagull.”

Chijiwa pulled back on the control stick and looked up at the avalanche of enemy fighters, smiling.

“I’m glad I got to meet you.”

The parachute disappeared into the distant sky. He quietly said his goodbye, knowing it wouldn’t reach him.

Then he looked toward the 300 enemy fighters.

“Let’s do this.”

Once again, an inexplicable power surged through him.

It felt as if Mido, Kannonji, and the countless pilots of the Unkaku and Otonashi Air Corps were flying alongside him.

“This will be the final battle.”

He opened the throttle.

As bullets rained down from the enemy planes, Chijiwa dodged them all while flying just above the sea.

By flying so close to the sea, no matter how many enemy planes there were, they could only attack from above and behind.

Only one could engage at a time. The remaining 299 planes circled overhead, waiting their turn.

“Come on, officer.”

Chijiwa licked the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll show you the strength of the Imperial pilots.”

No matter how many enemies there were, his flying was untouchable.

The Aries V planes came one after another, taking turns to get behind him, but Chijiwa calmly evaded every attack. He flew as if he had eyes in the back of his head—no, as if he had full control over the entire battlefield.

At this point, Chijiwa was beyond human abilities.

Without looking back, his instincts told him when each enemy would fire.

—The voice of the sky was speaking to him.

His flight suit, soaked in blood, felt heavy, but Chijiwa’s mind was perfectly clear.

Of all the dogfights he had experienced, this was the one where his skills were at their sharpest.

Even with his body pierced by shrapnel, his muscles and nerves pushed beyond their limits, his piloting senses were sharper than ever.

“What’s the matter, amateurs?”

With a fearless smile, he looked up at the enemy planes.

Surrounding him in such overwhelming numbers, they still couldn’t bring him down. Just as a flock of turkeys can’t defeat a hawk, a hawk can’t defeat a dragon no matter how many there are. He could almost hear the lament of the 300 enemy pilots.

“Feel the power of the Otonashi Air Corps.”

At that moment, a portion of the enemy formation was torn apart.

Three Aries V planes, turned into fireballs, crashed into the sea.

Through the gap in the enemy formation, Sugino and Matsuda descended. They immediately took positions on either side of Chijiwa, flying alongside him.

Chijiwa glared at them, grabbed the radio, and shouted angrily.

“What are you doing? I told you to survive!”

Through the speakers, the voices of his two wingmen responded.

“We refuse.”

“We’re with you to the end!”

Chijiwa clicked his tongue and shouted even louder in frustration.

“That’s an order, you idiots!! Your mission is to survive!!”

The speaker responded sadly.

“To the end, together.”

“Lieutenant, let us fight with you!! To the very end, together!!”

Sugino’s tearful voice burned into Chijiwa’s chest.

Chijiwa, who was about to get angrier, swallowed his words instead. He could only offer a bitter smile after that.

Sugino and Matsuda, who had always been loyal to his orders, were now disobeying them for the first time.

Fighting until the end as part of Chijiwa's squad was the path the two men had chosen.

Chijiwa sighed loudly into the radio so they could hear it and then adjusted his tone.

“In that case, we’ll go together. Until the end.”

The speaker nearly exploded with their response.

“...Yes!! Together!!”

“Let’s go, Lieutenant!!”

All three of their tail propellers roared in unison.

The aircraft began to rise. They gained altitude.

The enemy planes hadn’t expected them to climb, and their formation split apart.

Chijiwa’s squad became a solid mass of iron, cutting through the enemy's wall.

Fireballs swirled through the sky. Shattered steel tore through the blue heavens. Broken wings spun as they ascended into the sky.

Tearing through the thick smoke, Chijiwa's squad opened their wings in unison and soared through the summer sky.

“No enemy can escape.”

They slashed through the gap in the enemy formation.

A wedge-like attack was driven into the mass of enemy forces. The three Shinden Kai planes became the tip of that wedge, piercing through the massive formation of 300 planes.

One by one, the Aries V planes fell. For two and a half years, since the beginning of the war, Chijiwa’s squad had been forged and honed through countless aerial battles, and now their synchronized manoeuvres toyed with the 300-plane enemy force.

Chijiwa's squad broke through the enemy formation, all three planes making sharp turns and once again ripping through the centre of the enemy. The panicked enemy fighters instinctively tried to distance themselves from Chijiwa’s squad.

Finally, the Aries V fighters encircled Chijiwa’s squad, leaving about 300 meters of horizontal distance as they began a wide, cautious orbit. Occasionally, a brave one would spot an opening and charge at Chijiwa’s squad, but each time, they were swiftly cut down with a single strike.

Every time the flash of the 30mm cannon lit up the air, a flower of destruction bloomed over the sea as another Aries V plane was taken down.

None could approach.

The enemy forces could only circle at a distance, moving hesitantly.

It was as if a mob of weak soldiers were surrounding three master swordsmen, exchanging nervous glances without daring to strike. Such was the scene unfolding in the sky.

Chijiwa’s squad remained in formation, their backs protected by one another, glaring at the cowardly masses.

Chijiwa suddenly remembered the delinquents from Battleship Island. When they had climbed the steps leading to the hill where Yuki awaited, they’d seen Chijiwa at the top, lounging casually. After that, they would exchange glances and yield the lead to one another. The current Aries V fighters were exactly like those delinquents from back then. They knew that whoever attacked first would be cut down, so none of them wanted to make the first move. Instead, they circled cautiously, each one hoping the other would take the initiative.

—Taking down enemies like this isn’t fun.

—If possible, I’d like to take down a big shot with me.

Chijiwa checked his remaining power. Due to the intense aerial manoeuvres, his energy reserves were running low—he had about an hour of flight left. The Unkaku was likely already under attack by 1,500 planes from the Bardo fleet’s air corps and might have sunk by now. All that was left was to take as many of the enemy with him as possible, fighting to the end until his power ran out.

At that moment, Chijiwa’s gaze fell on the imposing figure of the enemy flagship carrier, the Grand Ideal.

A devilish grin spread across his bloodied face.

—Yuki.

—I’ll make sure you can sing your Levamme songs again.

He had come up with the perfect way to spite them. If it went well, he might even be able to end the war. The price would be his own life.

Suddenly, one enemy plane broke from the circle and attacked from behind Chijiwa.

Matsuda swiftly cut it down with a single stroke. Two more planes followed, but Sugino took them down in a head-on attack. Protected by his wingmen, Chijiwa grabbed the radio, glaring down at Bardo, who was likely on the bridge of the Grand Ideal.

—I’ll trade my life for yours, Bardo.

I could just ram into them, but that would be too easy.

The best way to torment Bardo is this.

He tuned the radio to the frequency of the Integrated Information Centre at Daidoarai Fortress. Most of the key facilities there were underground, so even if the surface was flattened by enemy bombardment, the fortress remained operational.

“This is Lieutenant Chijiwa of the Unkaku Air Corps. Engaged in combat directly above the Bardo fleet. Requesting response.”

Shortly after he made his call, a reply came through the speaker from the Integrated Information Centre.

“This is Daidoarai Fortress Integrated Information Centre. Where is your current position?”

Chijiwa pulled out the navigation chart he had prepared in advance. Thanks to the efforts of the Iyo Island defence forces, he could now determine where he was, as if the defenders of Iyo Island had given him this very opportunity.

“Current location: around Public Nautical Chart 34-22. The enemy fleet is fully deployed on the water—20 carriers, 4 battleships, countless cruiser-aircraft carriers, totalling over 150 ships. Course 230 degrees, speed 15 knots…”

As he provided detailed information, Chijiwa could hear the commotion in the Integrated Information Centre over the radio.

The ace pilot Chijiwa Takeo had positioned himself directly above the enemy fleet and was relaying his position. This was a “contact” mission to guide the friendly fleet to the enemy’s location with precision.

Following the orders of the director of the Integrated Information Centre, a communications officer connected Chijiwa’s transmission to another location.

The new connection led to the command bridge of the flagship Hida, part of the Yagami fleet, which was preparing to enter Daidoarai Bay.

“This is Lieutenant Chijiwa of the Unkaku Air Corps. I’m in contact with the Bardo fleet.”

He repeated the same report, and this time the Hida's command bridge erupted in activity.

—Admiral Yagami will trust me.

Chijiwa Takeo’s name echoed even among the highest-ranking officers after he had protected six carriers at the Battle of Victoria Sea and scored three direct hits on the Grand Ideal off the coast of Est Miranda. After the Battle of Est Miranda, Admiral Yagami had awarded him a commendation and a military sword.

—He will listen to what I have to say.

Trusting in that, Chijiwa continued to report to the communication officer.

“The Bardo fleet has deployed all its attack planes toward the decoy fleet. I request that the Yagami fleet turn around. Current location: around Public Nautical Chart 34-22. The enemy fleet is fully deployed on the water…”

Chijiwa relayed the course of the Bardo fleet to the Hida's command centre in detail, trusting that Admiral Yagami would listen to his report from the battlefield.

—Please, turn around. Turn back, Hida, Settsu...!!

Chijiwa prayed. He believed that if Admiral Yagami listened to this report, he would see a new option.

What would happen if the Hida and Settsu turned their massive guns on the rear of the Bardo fleet? Since all the attack planes had been sent toward the Unkaku and Manazuru, the Bardo fleet had no air support left. The Hida and Settsu could bombard the enemy battleships and cruisers from a range outside their gunfire, delivering armour-piercing shells with their 50cm main guns!

As soon as Chijiwa’s squad made contact, the surrounding Aries V fighters swarmed to attack. While fending them off, Chijiwa continued his contact mission without fail. Protected by Matsuda and Sugino on either side, he kept his eyes on the Bardo fleet, which was zigzagging through the waves, and continued to report its movements.

The key to success was ensuring the Yagami fleet intercepted the Bardo fleet. To achieve this, Chijiwa had to stay alive and continue reporting the Bardo fleet’s speed, course, and position. The Hida and Settsu, as flying battleships, were much faster than surface ships, so as long as they had the location, they could catch up.

—So, I can’t afford to die yet.

While maintaining contact, Chijiwa continued dodging enemy attacks. It was an almost god-like display of flying, a skill only an ace of Chijiwa’s caliber could achieve.

—Please turn back, Admiral Yagami. For the future of Amatsukami, turn back.

Praying with all his might, Chijiwa continued to fly.

—We can end this war.

—Yuki will be able to sing Levamme’s songs again.

Without a thought for his own life, Chijiwa put every ounce of his skill into flying through the sky.

At the same time—

Chijiwa’s report forced the commander of the Special Surface Attack Fleet, Vice Admiral Yagami Takechika, to make the greatest decision in the history of Amatsukami.

The super-dreadnought flying battleships Hida and Settsu were flying at an altitude of 500 meters, about to launch a surface attack on the enemy escort fleet in Daidoarai Bay. As a defender of the nation, these two super-dreadnought battleships were prepared to collide with the enemy fleet and take 100,000 marines down with them in a mutually destructive strike. However, Chijiwa’s report about the Bardo fleet’s position shook that resolve to its core.

—Do I charge into Daidoarai Bay and take 100,000 marines down with me?

—Or do I stop the charge, turn around, and pursue the Bardo fleet?

The crushing pressure on Vice Admiral Yagami was beyond imagination.

In the 3,000-year history of Amatsukami, no one had ever been forced to make such a heavy decision.

The decision he was about to make would directly affect the future of the nation for the next 100 years.

Charging into Daidoarai Bay would justify the sacrifices made by the decoy fleet led by the Miyoshi. It would also result in the sinking of the Hida and Settsu, but they would take 100,000 enemy marines with them. However, the Bardo fleet would remain unscathed, continuing to threaten the seas.

Turning around to pursue the Bardo fleet would mean the sacrifices of the Miyoshi fleet would be in vain. The Miyoshi fleet had sacrificed itself to pave the way for the Yagami fleet’s attack on Daidoarai Bay. Ignoring their sacrifice and turning back to chase the Bardo fleet could be seen as cowardice, and if they failed to catch the fleet, Yagami would be branded a coward for the rest of his life, his family disgraced forever by both the military and the public.

But if they turned back and managed to capture the Bardo fleet… Yagami Takechika’s name would be forever honoured as a great general, and his family would be celebrated for generations to come. The battleships’ guns were meant to pierce the enemy ships’ armour, not crush the ground. If the Hida and Settsu's 50cm main guns hit the enemy’s carriers, they would pierce through their keels and sink them with one shot. And now, with all of Bardo’s aircraft deployed against the Unkaku, their fleet was defenceless. Even if they recalled their planes, reloading the bombs and torpedoes to attack the Hida and Settsu would leave their decks vulnerable—just like Yagami had experienced in the Battle of Victoria Sea. He could force Bardo into making the same mistake…

The dream of all the people of Amatsukami was to see the enemy carriers engulfed in flames and sinking beneath the waves. It was the battlefield romance that everyone envisioned. But achieving that dream, having the enemy fleet within range of the battleship’s guns, was considered a miracle on this vast ocean… at least, until now.

—But this time.

Yagami stared intently at the approaching Daidoarai Bay.

—The one making contact is Chijiwa.

—Our navy’s greatest ace, risking his life to stay in contact.

He was undoubtedly holding out against hundreds of enemy fighters while maintaining contact. Any lesser pilot would have lasted less than a minute, but Chijiwa could withstand it.

No matter how many enemies came, Chijiwa could dodge all their bullets, reporting the speed and course of the enemy fleet to guide the battleships. He was the pride of the Amatsukami Navy, Chijiwa Takeo, a pilot who appeared only once in a century.

—If Chijiwa is leading us.

—We will reach our target.

—And the massive guns of our super-dreadnought battleships will destroy the enemy carrier fleet.

Yagami clenched his fist tightly, so tightly that his knuckles bled.

Should he charge?

Or should he turn back?

Would he go down in history as a fool who doomed the nation?

Or as the hero who saved it?

This decision would determine it all.

He opened his eyes wide.

Yagami’s gaze was fixed on the future of Amatsukami. A future where their children and grandchildren would walk proudly across the world, not as monkeys but as humans.

His trembling right hand rose to just above his temple.

And then—he turned his hand over.

The officers in the room gasped, their eyes widening.

That hand signal.

What did it mean?

"Port rudder!"

“All ships, reverse course!”

A quiet order echoed through the command bridge.

“Full engines. The First Assault Fleet will pursue Bardo.”

The decision was delivered with a low, heavy voice—the greatest decision in the history of Amatsukami.

“Full port rudder! Maximum battle speed!”

The staff officers shouted into the voice tubes.

This moment was the turning point that would decide whether the future of Amatsukami was dark or glorious.

The super-dreadnought flying battleships Hida and Settsu, with Daidoarai Bay in sight, began to turn around. The surface fleet following behind them, initially shocked, followed suit. Angry cries erupted from the officers of the following fleet: “What does this reversal mean!? Why are we cancelling the attack when the Miyoshi fleet sacrificed themselves!?” “Explain the meaning of this reversal!”

However, the two flying battleships ascended to an altitude of 1,000 meters, then flew boldly to the southeast with their engines pushed to maximum power.

Their guns aimed forward, seeking the shadow of the Bardo fleet. This was the desperate flight of the Yagami fleet, with the fate of the Amatsukami Empire hanging in the balance.

“Come on, Sanka! Is that all you've got!?”

Bloodied, Chijiwa turned to look behind him, shouting.

Three enemy planes were in pursuit. More were approaching head-on. Weaving through the hail of bullets, his aircraft was riddled with holes, fragments embedded in his arms and torso, with bullets grazing his body. His entire body was drenched in blood.

Yet, he continued fighting. Even in this situation, he maintained contact with the enemy fleet.

Sugino and Matsuda stuck close, protecting him, though both their planes and bodies were battered and covered in wounds. They had long surpassed their physical limits, drenched in blood, flying purely on willpower, determination, and grit.

They had shot down so many enemy planes that they had lost count.

It was unclear whether the Yagami fleet was even coming.

But Chijiwa believed they would come. He wiped the blood from his eyes with his arm and continued reporting the enemy fleet’s speed and course.

Then—

Matsuda’s plane, flying at his right-rear diagonal, burst into flames from the nose.

It lurched forward. As if it had given up, Matsuda’s plane began losing altitude.

Chijiwa turned to look back. He saw Matsuda's smiling face through the flames consuming the cockpit.

“I’ll go ahead, Lieutenant.”

The speaker crackled with Matsuda’s voice.

Chijiwa nodded.

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Goodbye, Lieutenant.”

Matsuda’s plane, trailing a long tail of fire, plummeted and transformed into a fireball at about 1,000 meters.

“Matsuda.”

He would see him soon.

Not here, but somewhere else.

Higher than this sky.

“Matsuda.”

He called his friend’s name one more time. A friend who had protected him for two and a half years.

“Lieutenant.”

Sugino’s voice came over the speaker.

To the rear-left diagonal, flames were pouring out of the fuselage of Sugino’s plane. It was the section that housed the hydrogen gas tanks. A hit there meant there was no hope of survival.

“Sugino.”

“I’ll go ahead as well.”

The flames grew larger, engulfing Sugino’s cockpit.

Drenched in blood, Sugino gave a salute with a smile.

“It was my honour to have come this far with you.”

“Those are my words.”

“Goodbye, Lieutenant.”

Sugino turned into a blazing fireball.

The shattered duralumin scattered, silver streaks piercing the blue sky.

The dispersing fireball was left behind Chijiwa's plane.

“Sugino.”

He called the name again.

Blood flowed from his head, running down his face.

Through the streaks of red, a single tear cut through.

Chijiwa wiped it away with his arm.

He glared ahead, beyond the windshield.

His eyes alone pierced the summer sky.

He gripped the control stick as if he were embracing it.

Now, in this sky, Chijiwa was alone.

Surrounded by nearly 300 enemy planes.

“Come on, cowards.”

Suddenly, he made a sharp turn. The pursuing enemy planes panicked. In an instant, his 30mm bullets obliterated two of them.

“What’s wrong, Sanka?”

He descended through the sky, locking onto an enemy plane. In a diagonal slash, he sliced through the fuselage, cutting it clean in two.

“Come at me.”

The enemy planes scattered. Just one plane was enough to drive them off.

“Don’t run. Come!”

Chijiwa launched an attack on the scattering enemy planes himself.

It was as if the sky itself was protecting him—no bullets hit Chijiwa.

But Chijiwa’s bullets consistently tore the Aries V fighters to pieces.

His body knew exactly what to do in an aerial battle. He could read every move the enemy made. Chijiwa understood now that he had complete control over the battlefield.

It didn’t matter how many planes came—tens, hundreds, it made no difference.

He would just keep taking down every enemy in sight. He spotted a gap in their formation, pounced on it, and tore through it. That was all he needed to do. And as a result, the enemy planes fled in terror, crashing down one by one.

No one could stop Chijiwa.

The sky was on his side.

—The King of the Sky.

Everyone in the aerial battlefield understood who held that title.

“Kneel before me, you lowly wretches.”

Majestic and proud, Chijiwa spread his wings across the sky he ruled.

The surrounding enemy planes, as if acknowledging the king, could only circle around him.

No one could approach.

No one could defy him.

The King of the Sky was none other than Chijiwa Takeo.

Then, on the far horizon—Chijiwa’s sharp eyes caught sight of two massive shadows.

There was no doubt—they were the flying battleships Hida and Settsu.

“Admiral Yagami.”

He murmured the name with gratitude. Despite the foolish orders during the Battle of Victoria Sea, this decision was the best. The distance was about 40 kilometres. The enemy battleships' shells couldn’t reach, but the shells from the Hida and Settsu could.

Chijiwa grabbed the radio.

“This is Chijiwa. I’ll observe the shell impacts. Take your time.”

The cheers from the Hida's command centre echoed through the speaker.

The crew of the battleship, having finally gotten the enemy fleet within range, was filled with joy that spread across the distant sky.

The long-anticipated battle between battleships and carriers, which had been thought impossible, was now becoming a reality in this war that would decide the fate of the nation.

And what’s more, the enemy fleet was fully deployed on the water, making them easy targets for the flying battleships. The altitude extended the battleships' range, and their elevation gave their shells immense penetrating power. If the enemy had bombers or torpedo planes, the flying battleships would be at a disadvantage, but against surface ships, they were practically invincible.

All that remained for the Hida and Settsu was to take position beyond the enemy battleships' range and rain shells down on them.

The time had come to demonstrate the results of the intense training—celebrated in songs as “Nine days a week”—against the enemy carriers.

—Kannonji. Mido. Your dreams are coming true.

Both were observation pilots for the Hida and Settsu. Chijiwa had learned from them how it was done during casual conversations, and now, with their guidance, it felt as if he was performing the role of an observer for the Hida and Settsu himself.

“Now, fire. Fire away, Hida, Settsu.”

At his command, a series of flashes appeared 40 kilometres away in the sky.

Three seconds later, the sound arrived—a booming roar as over a ton of armour-piercing shells cut through the summer sky.

And then—around one of the enemy's regular carriers, nine massive water spouts shot into the air.

“Crossfire! Perfect shot!”

Chijiwa’s excitement crackled over the radio to the Hida. Crossfire meant that the enemy ship was caught within the spread of the shells. The fact that they had achieved this on the first volley showed just how highly trained the crew of the Hida was. Once crossfire was achieved, direct hits were inevitable.

Desperate to prevent this, the battleships and heavy cruisers of the Bardo fleet opened fire in unison. However, their shells exploded far short of the Hida and Settsu. At 40 kilometres, the Bardo fleet’s guns couldn’t reach. And hitting a flying battleship required accounting for the additional factor of altitude, making it even more difficult. In contrast, the surface warships were fixed on a plane, and the surrounding water spouts made it easy for the flying battleships to observe their shell impacts. Now the Hida and Settsu loomed over the Bardo fleet, hammering them mercilessly.

The second salvo fired in the distance. After the high-pitched sound of the shells came the impact—two armour-piercing rounds smashed through one of the regular carriers.

A hideous screech echoed as the hull caved in. It was like spearing carp in a pond.

The bow and stern of the ship lifted out of the water, and then—flooding began. A 260-meter-long carrier, sunk with just two direct hits.

One after another, without pause, the massive shells from the Hida and Settsu rained down on the Bardo fleet.

The sight that every citizen of Amatsukami had dreamed of now unfolded beneath Chijiwa’s eyes.

The enormous guns, once ridiculed as useless relics, were tearing the enemy carriers to pieces like fish pierced by spears.

The years of frustration, from being relentlessly attacked, were washed away by the rain of 50cm shells.

The Bardo fleet’s circular formation, proximity fuses, and escort planes were all irrelevant. The Bardo fleet had no defence against the relentless bombardment of armour-piercing shells. All they could do was weave erratically across the sea, trying to escape the storm of shells from the Hida and Settsu.

Pillars of fire rose from the carriers, the sky darkening with smoke. The bombardment from the Hida and Settsu showed no sign of stopping.

Chijiwa continued to observe the shell impacts with utmost focus.

His power reserves were quickly running out.

The final moment was drawing near.

At the same time—

The Miyoshi fleet, which had served as a decoy to lure the Bardo fleet, was about to meet its end under the attack of more than 1,500 enemy aircraft.

The Manazuru had already sunk. The Unkaku was heavily listing and on the verge of going down.

The Unkaku and Manazuru had fought valiantly. Surrounded by countless enemy planes, their evasive manoeuvres had astounded even the enemy pilots, dodging hundreds of incoming torpedoes. They had fulfilled their role as decoys perfectly.

The order to abandon ship was given by Captain Miyoshi.

The crew of the Unkaku slid down the slanted deck, jumping into the sea one after another. The remaining destroyers were picking up the swimmers from the water.

“Shall we gaze at the moon? You, me, and the Unkaku—just the three of us.”

Captain Miyoshi said this to a nearby air staff officer, then ascended the stairs to the bridge of the sinking Unkaku. The watertight door that closed behind him would never open again.

Hasami Shinichi, his right arm in a sling from a bandage, had left the infirmary and was now standing atop the slanted deck.

Below him, he saw the crew sliding down the deck and leaping into the sea. However, some of the senior officers chose to enter the bridge. These were the men who had decided to share the fate of the Unkaku, the ship they loved.

The rumble of water flooding into the hull echoed from inside. Soon, the Unkaku would become nothing more than debris in the sea.

—I, too, should die here.

Hasami told himself this.

The pilots who had taken off would return to no carrier, and they would all perish.

Chijiwa, Matsuda, Sugino, even the younger pilots with only 200 flight hours.

So how could he, alone, survive?

—I will die with the Unkaku.

Hasami closed his eyes. It seemed like the most honourable choice.

But.

"Don’t die. No matter how hard it is, live."

The voice that struck his ears was Chijiwa’s, from earlier.

Hasami gazed out at the distant sea.

In the north western sea, by now, Chijiwa was likely challenging the Bardo fleet, becoming one with the ocean’s bloom. That man, who seemed impossible to kill, had finally become someone who would never return.

There was no way I could be allowed to survive when he had died.

"It’s not shameful to live. You’re a living witness. You must tell the children about the battle of the Unkaku and the fight of the Otonashi Air Squadron."

What a selfish thing to say. He’s always been a selfish bastard, thinking everyone would just follow his will.

"So that our fight isn’t in vain. So that the feelings of those who died can illuminate the future of this country."

Shut up, you idiot. Don’t start talking like a normal person just because you're Chijiwa.

Because you’re Chijiwa.

"Live for us, Hasami, as our representative."

Hasami wiped his eyes with his arm.

He wiped them over and over again, trying to forcefully push away what was overflowing.

"You're the lowest, you know that?"

Chijiwa. How much more are you going to make me suffer?

How long am I supposed to put up with your selfishness?

Chijiwa, wait for me in hell.

Once I’ve finished my duties here on Earth and make my way to hell, I’ll beat you senseless to my heart’s content.

I may be a bit late, but I’ll definitely come after you.

"Wait for me, Chijiwa."

Hasami removed the bandage from his right hand and sat down on the tilted deck. The incline grew steeper, and he slid down.

He plunged into the cold, dark ocean.

When he looked back, the Unkaku was sinking into the sea as dusk approached.

Hasami turned his gaze forward.

A small boat lowered from a destroyer was picking up the Unkaku crew.

He swam with all his might. His right shoulder, which Chijiwa had dislocated, still ached, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from moving.

Hasami swam.

He swam to survive.

He swam to ensure the battle of the Unkaku and the Otonashi Air Squadron would not be in vain.

He swam with all his strength to pass on the story of the proud and noble samurai of the sky to future generations.

"Goodbye, Hasami. The days I fought under you were truly wonderful."

Chijiwa’s parting words echoed in his ears again.

The things streaming down his cheeks mixed with the seawater.

Sobbing bitterly, Hasami swam through the darkening sea.

"Where did we go wrong?"

With his hands behind his back, gazing through the bulletproof glass, Bardo quietly asked.

"...It wasn’t the Miyoshi fleet... the real enemy was the Hida and Settsu," replied Commander Ramon bitterly.

Bardo didn’t turn around.

He just watched through the bulletproof glass on the third floor of the Grand Ideal’s combat command centre, unmoved by the devastation unfolding outside.

The sky and earth roared.

The rain of more than one-ton armour-piercing shells fired from the 50cm main guns turned the once peaceful sea into a hellish scene.

Here and there, regular carriers were snapping in half, spewing flames as they sank.

Only an hour ago, there had been twenty regular carriers. Now, only four remained.

In just one hour, five had sunk, seven were severely damaged, and four were rendered inoperable due to deck destruction. The remaining four would soon be within the crosshairs of the Hida and Settsu.

Soon, the 1,500-plane attack force sent to target the Unkaku would return. At this point, 1,200 of them would have no place to land and would sink into the sea. If things continued like this, the remaining 300 would meet the same fate.

The barrage of armour-piercing shells was shattering Bardo’s dreams.

Could it be that aircraft carriers, when faced with super-dreadnought battleships, were this fragile?

Before his eyes, Bardo was witnessing the greatest, unprecedented defeat in human history, with no parallel in the annals of naval warfare.

"Was the mistake getting lured by the decoy fleet?"

Without turning around, Bardo asked Ramon.

"The direct cause... was sending the entire attack force after the decoy fleet. And the tenacity of the Unkaku and Manazuru. Normally, the attack force would have returned long ago, but because the Miyoshi fleet fought longer than expected, they couldn’t make it back. As a result, we couldn’t send a second wave to target the Hida and Settsu..."

Had we our aircraft, the flying battleships wouldn’t be a problem. With no nearby sea to limit them, dive bombers could approach to bomb at close range, swoop in, and escape. The battleships were large, and without the risk of crashing into the sea, dive bombing was nearly guaranteed to hit. The only reason we failed was that our attack force was away from the battlefield.

"No."

"......?"

"The cause... is him."

Bardo pointed skyward.

Amidst the smoke, Mad Dog was flying.

Pursued by the escort fighters, it weaved in and out of the clouds, evading and reappearing in different locations to shoot down Aries V fighters. It was as if the pilot was aware of everything happening in the combat zone, a combat technique that defied all logic.

"He brought Yagami here. He’s the one keeping contact and observing the shell impacts. We can’t shoot him down, no matter how hard we try."

Ramon had no reply.

As Bardo said, this massive Levamme fleet, the largest in the nation’s history, was on the verge of being destroyed by a single pilot.

This was no modern war.

This battlefield, right in front of him, was more like a mythical war, where a chosen hero wielded a legendary sword and, single-handedly, scattered an entire army.

"I’ve lived on the battlefield for over thirty years, and I’ve never seen anything like this."

Bardo’s words echoed sadly through the command centre. In the future, history books would describe the Battle of Awa Island as the greatest defeat in Levamme history, and Bardo would be remembered as the fool who lost an unwinnable battle.

Yet Bardo wore a smile filled with delight.

Through the glass, he gazed up at the sky of defeat.

Mad Dog began circling directly above the Grand Ideal. His next target would undoubtedly be this ship.

"Magnificent, Beagle. It seems we haven’t entirely discarded the romance of the battlefield."

Bardo, who had always scorned such sentiments, now found himself filled with a strange sense of admiration for the romance of war.

Mad Dog was demonstrating right before his eyes how an individual’s strength could change the course of battle and overturn the tide of war. While it was frustrating, it also stirred something refreshing deep within Bardo’s heart.

He noticed Mad Dog's tail propeller slowing as it flew at around 3,000 meters altitude. Eventually, the engine completely lost power, and the plane’s nose began to tip forward, as if it had reached its limit. It seemed Mad Dog was out of electricity.

Even Mad Dog was about to fall.

Yet Bardo instinctively knew that this fierce fighter pilot wasn’t going to simply fall and die.

Where would that man choose to land?

It could only be the Grand Ideal’s bridge.

Far above the bulletproof glass, Bardo saw Mad Dog descending, aiming the nose of his plane directly toward him.

Though out of power, Mad Dog skilfully manipulated the control surfaces, steering directly toward him.

A sixty-degree dive—this was the suicidal dive of a pilot who had accepted death. Even without power, he could gain enough speed to break through the bulletproof glass.

Bardo smiled broadly.

"Show me, Beagle."

As if to embrace Mad Dog, Bardo spread his arms wide.

"Show me how your romanticism will shatter this iron fortress."

The anti-aircraft gunners spotted Mad Dog diving toward them.

Immediately, anti-aircraft guns loaded with proximity fuses fired in unison at Mad Dog.

But Mad Dog didn’t flinch. He tore through the barrage. The dive was too steep for the anti-aircraft guns to adjust their elevation in time. With his fangs gleaming, Mad Dog charged straight toward his target, seeking to drag them down into the underworld.

"Hahaha! Excellent! Come, take my head if you can!!"

Bardo laughed heartily, waiting to face the samurai of the sky.

His heart pounded with excitement.

He had never imagined there could be a man like this among the enemies he had dismissed as monkeys.

After thirty years on the battlefield, he had finally encountered a kindred spirit.

A tragic man, with no place in everyday life, who could only truly live on the battlefield—just like himself.

"He’s no monkey."

Dodging the explosions of anti-aircraft fire, the Shinden-kai approached. The guns couldn’t keep up with the steep dive angle. Hurtling toward Bardo at breakneck speed, Mad Dog was about to plunge into the bridge.

It was unmistakable—the figure of a lone warrior, cutting through the battlefield, charging single-handedly into the heart of the enemy.

"You are a true samurai!!"

With arms wide open and a loud laugh, Bardo awaited the arrival of the mighty warrior.

The Grand Ideal's bridge loomed larger through the cockpit window.

Blood-soaked, Chijiwa was on the verge of losing consciousness, weakened by blood loss, exhaustion, and the g-forces.

There was no power left. He could no longer fly. The only option left was to let his instincts as a fighter pilot guide him, leading him to crash into the enemy flagship’s bridge.

"Sugino, Matsuda... I’m coming after you, though I’m a bit late."

He uttered those final words. His senses were fading, yet somehow, his control stick still moved, dodging the incoming rounds. It felt as though the comrades who had fallen were using his body to guide the Shinden-kai.

A sixty-degree dive. The path was perfectly aligned with the Grand Ideal's bridge.

The surrounding sounds grew distant.

His vision darkened. The noise of anti-aircraft fire faded.

The Grand Ideal grew larger. Flames and smoke engulfed the view through the cockpit. Thousands of explosions erupted nearby, and shrapnel pierced Chijiwa’s body.

His entire body felt as if it were being impaled by needles. His hands, gripping the control stick, were slick with blood. But there was nothing more to do but let his body guide him. His instincts as a fighter, honed over countless battles, would surely bring him safely to the bridge where Bardo awaited.

The bridge drew closer.

Was it his imagination, or did it seem as though Bardo, laughing with his arms wide open, was waiting to embrace him?

If he stayed on this path, he would surely hit the target.

He felt certain of it.

In his dimming vision, something red appeared.

At first, he thought it was blood, but it wasn’t.

It was the colour of the sunset.

The girl’s back, like a scene from an acrylic painting, appeared against the crimson sky, sitting beside an old beagle and singing to the sea.

Her pure voice drowned out the explosions of anti-aircraft fire.

That beloved nocturne filled Chijiwa’s fading consciousness. It was the Levamme song that Yuki had sung the first time they met.

"Yuki..."

Chijiwa smiled. To be able to meet the final moment accompanied by Yuki’s song—there was no greater happiness.

"You’re so kind."

He clutched the record he had brought with him into the cockpit to his chest.

The bridge filled his view.

But Chijiwa’s eyes no longer saw the reality before him.

All he could see was the girl, looking back at him, singing that beloved song.

"Yuki."

In that final instant—

"Be happy."

White flames engulfed everything.

Chijiwa’s body, the Shinden-kai, the record... all were consumed by the pure white fire.

From the bridge of the regular carrier Grand Ideal, crimson flames blossomed.

The massive ship listed to one side.

A massive explosion erupted, and brownish smoke scorched the edges of the sky.

Incredibly, a large hole opened in the topmost combat command centre of the bridge. The force of Mad Dog's impact was so immense that it shattered the bulletproof glass and exploded within the bridge. Bardo, the chief commander, and all the staff officers present had no chance of surviving.

And then, in the next moment—

50 cm main gun shells rained down around the Grand Ideal. Enormous water columns rose higher than the flight deck, and the summer sky was swallowed by the cascading spray. The shock, as if the sea itself had been torn apart, caused the Grand Ideal to lurch. Though it desperately needed to flee after being caught in a crossfire with the first hit, it had lost its head due to Mad Dog's suicide attack, rendering it helpless.

Of the second barrage, four shells pierced the Grand Ideal. The sound of tearing steel was followed by seawater relentlessly flooding the ship’s interior. The ship, broken into three parts, helplessly raised its shattered sections to the sky as it sank. The flagship of Bardo’s fleet met an end that was shockingly abrupt.

Both the Hida and Settsu were battered and bruised.

Since they had focused solely on targeting the aircraft carriers, the other surface vessels had closed the distance, bringing them within range. Although they fired while trying to evade, many shells hit. Yet, the Hida and Settsu, cloaked in flames and spewing ash, continued their desperate bombardment.

It didn’t matter if they died here—so long as they took Bardo’s fleet with them.

Faced with such fierce and unwavering resolve, the remaining ships, having lost their flagship, decided on one thing: retreat. None of the surviving ships wanted to be dragged down into foreign waters, fighting against the "monkeys." All they wanted now was to stop engaging with this terrifying enemy.

After reducing all twenty aircraft carriers to either sinking wrecks or inoperable vessels, the Hida and Settsu turned their prows toward their original target, the Daidoarai Bay, and ignored the retreating ships. Dragging long plumes of smoke behind them, they entered the bay’s range at around 19:30.

In the darkness of night, a fierce battle erupted between the imperial fleet and the remaining escort ships of the Levamme forces.

One hour later, the Settsu, having sustained seventeen direct hits and lost its first bridge section, finally sank. At the same time, the Levamme escort fleet ran out of ammunition. Their earlier bombardment of the Daidoarai Fortress had proven to be their undoing.

With no mercy, the Hida, along with the remaining light cruisers and destroyers, tore apart the entire escort fleet, sinking every ship to the bottom of the sea.

Then, the Hida’s guns turned to the fleeing transport convoy.

At around 1 a.m., in the early hours of the following day, Daidoarai Bay swallowed the corpses of tens of thousands of marines.

Five days after the destruction of the Bardo fleet and the death of the national hero Wilhelm Bardo were announced to the Levamme citizens, the list of over 70,000 war dead, including fleet and marine personnel, reached the Levamme court. The Secretary of State, Fana Levamme, requested a ceasefire from the Amatsukami Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

By this time, Empress Fana, who had taken over real power from Emperor Carlo, had already sensed the war-weariness of both the court and the citizens. She silenced the hardliners by confronting them with the list of 70,000 war dead, brought the emperor into the anti-war camp, and persuaded the royal family. The unprecedented defeat in the Battle of Awa Island had left the court and citizens deeply disheartened. Thus, the foolish war came to a rather anticlimactic end, and a peace treaty was signed four years later.

A historian once named Empress Fana as the first and foremost person responsible for bringing the Central Sea War to an end, followed by a certain junior officer, Lieutenant Takeo Chijiwa. The historian wrote, "Empress Fana turned the Levamme court against the war, and Takeo Chijiwa taught the Levamme people what kind of race the Amatsukami truly were. After receiving 70,000 coffins in a single naval battle, the Levamme finally understood that the Amatsukami were not monkeys, but samurai."

Final Chapter

The autumn rain had passed, and the high, fish-scale clouds began to swim across the sky. A lone, graceful woman stood at the Daidoarai airfield on Awa Island.

Dressed in a light blue blouse, a white skirt, and a straw hat, the tall, elegant woman with sharp features was Yuki Mizumori, from Yoshioka.

Yuki stood still on the runway, gazing at Daidoarai Bay before her.

It was October.

A month had passed since the Central Sea War abruptly ended with a ceasefire.

Beside Yuki stood an Imperial reconnaissance plane, the Saikaze, the same type of aircraft she once took on a pleasure flight with Chijiwa over the Trebas Atoll.

Soon, the pilot she was waiting for approached with long strides.

It was Shinichi Hasami, wearing the uniform of the Amatsukami Navy. When Yuki noticed him, she bowed politely.

"It’s been a while, Lieutenant Hasami."

Hasami saluted in return.

"The same to you. It’s been a long time."

Yuki raised her head and looked closely at Hasami's face.

"This is the second time I’ve troubled you, isn’t it, Lieutenant Hasami?"

Without changing his expression, Hasami replied firmly.

"No trouble at all. I’m sure Chijiwa would be happy."

"...Do you think so? I feel like he’d actually be annoyed."

"Not at all. The other pilots would be glad as well. You were well-liked by everyone, Miss Mizumori."

"I hope so."

"Let’s go. Chijiwa is surely waiting for you with great anticipation."

Encouraged, and with Hasami’s help, Yuki climbed into the rear seat of the Saikaze. A mechanic approached and handed her a bouquet of flowers.

In the front seat, Hasami revved the engine, and the Saikaze began to taxi down the runway.

They took off, soaring into the sky, where there was no longer any distinction between friend and foe.

The afternoon autumn sky was a deep blue.

At an altitude of 3,500 meters, Hasami levelled off and began cruising.

Looking down at Awa Island, the scars of the battle were still visible.

The burned townscape. The destroyed gun emplacements. The former Daidoarai Fortress, now reduced to ruins with all its facilities demolished.

In Daidoarai Bay, burned and grounded ships, both friend and foe, still lay abandoned. Although as many bodies as possible had been recovered and buried, regardless of nationality, tens of thousands of corpses surely remained at the bottom of the bay.

Yuki, her eyelashes lowered sorrowfully, gazed down at the devastated landscape of Daidoarai.

The inn where she had stayed with Chijiwa just over three months ago had also burned down. Countless lives had been lost in aerial bombings and naval gunfire. There had been so many cruel deaths that her senses had gone numb to it all.

But now, it was all over.

She realized just how precious the peaceful everyday life was. In Daidoarai town, there were already people working hard to rebuild.

Eventually, Awa Island faded into the horizon.

Hasami, saying nothing unnecessary, flew them calmly toward their destination.

After crossing several cloud formations, Hasami’s voice came through the speaking tube.

"We’re here."

Yuki looked down.

The deep-coloured sea stretched out in calm waves.

The silver-tinted water reflected the transparent sunlight, making it seem like an ordinary, unremarkable ocean.

"Here is where... Takeo is."

After taking Bardo, the enemy commander, with him, Chijiwa had sunk into this sea.

"......"

Yuki silently gazed at the resting place of the one who would never return. A flock of white birds flew past beneath her feet.

"I knew you wouldn’t keep your promise."

She spoke softly to the shimmering sea.

"...You really didn’t keep it."

Chijiwa had promised that day that he would return after shooting down the Seagull.

"I bet you didn’t even remember that promise. You always do that. You never thought about me at all."

Her complaints spilled out into the ocean.

"You only cared about the sky. You idiot."

A single tear fell.

Yuki gripped the speaking tube tightly and spoke to Hasami in the front seat.

"Lieutenant Hasami. Will you listen to my complaints?"

His response came through the tube.

"Please, feel free."

As she looked out over the sea, Yuki began to pour out her grievances.

It was all about Chijiwa, from his childhood entry into the pilot training school to becoming a pilot and wandering the battlefield. As she followed the course of his life, she criticized, mocked, and insulted each of his actions.

Hasami listened patiently. He found nothing amusing about it, but when they parted on the Unkaku, Chijiwa had asked him, "Listen to Yuki’s complaints." Perhaps Chijiwa had already foreseen this scene back then.

"...Isn’t Takeo just the worst?"

"He had a complex personality."

"Really... sigh. He was the absolute worst..."

After saying that, Yuki fell silent and stared at the sea for a long time.

Hasami circled over the ocean. This was the same sea where Chijiwa and the Seagull had fought their epic duel two months earlier.

"Lieutenant Hasami."

Suddenly, Yuki spoke again.

"Yes?"

"...Takeo’s death... Did it mean anything?"

"......"

"Was there any meaning in dying in that war?"

The emotions coming through the speaking tube were earnest.

So Hasami answered seriously.

"Meaning is something that those who live on must find."

"......"

"Those who fought and died didn’t seek meaning. They simply wanted to protect the people they loved. They refused to let their children be trampled and called monkeys. For the future where the Amatsukami could live as humans, they needed to fight. That’s what I believe."

"......"

"Were they victims brainwashed by the state and forced to fight until their deaths? Or were they great warriors who fought for their loved ones and their descendants’ right to live as humans? It’s up to us, the ones who live on, to decide. That’s our responsibility, as those who live on the sacrifices they made."

"......"

"I am human. I live, standing on the corpses of those who died. That’s why I will carry on their story. I will tell the story of the Unkaku’s battle and the Otomi Squadron's fight. So that one day, it will give courage to our children. So that, a hundred years, two hundred years from now, it will inspire the courage and hope of the Amatsukami people."

"……My work is simply that. By doing so, I believe that the deaths of my comrades will contribute to the future of this country."

"Yes... that's right. I think Takeo would be happy too."

Yuki gazed out over the sea.

Once, those who fought on opposing sides now rest in the same ocean.

Warriors from two noble and courageous nations who faced the times with unwavering resolve.

—We are allowed to live.

Hasami's words echoed within Yuki.

—We stand on the bodies of our parents, grandparents, and the ancestors before them.

The paths we walk so carelessly are paved over the blood, sweat, tears, flesh, and bones of those who came before us. When we look back at history, we will come to realize that we live upon the foundation our ancestors built.

Those who are allowed to live will lay another stone upon that precious foundation. So that the children who follow can walk this path without fear. Over long stretches of time, through the changes of countless generations, we must carefully, cautiously, and patiently build one small stone after another, ensuring that the foundation our ancestors laid is not destroyed.

—This foundation will lead to the future.

Yuki gently placed her hand on her stomach.

Within her, the new life entrusted to her by Takeo was growing. Lately, she had been feeling its presence more and more.

—When this child is born, grows up, and faces times of doubt or despair...

—They will only need to look back at the path they’ve travelled.

This child will surely understand.

They will know the greatness of the path they walk.

They will realize the noble hopes of the ancestors embedded in the ground they tread.

No matter how difficult or hopeless the road ahead may seem.

The ground beneath their feet is this strong.

It is this precious.

—Surely, this will give them courage.

The children will continue walking forward, facing any hardship that comes their way. Passing on the wishes of those who came before them to the next generation of children.

Ahead of them awaits a beautiful future.

—That is surely what it means to live.

Yuki grabbed the speaking tube.

"Lieutenant Hasami."

"Yes?"

"Can you stop the propeller for a moment?"

"For a little while, that won’t be a problem."

Following her request, Hasami stopped the propeller.

The Saikaze spread its wings gracefully, gliding through the vast sky.

Yuki opened the canopy and leaned out.

The clear sky was there—Takeo's beloved, free, and majestic sky.

She threw the bouquet. The vivid red petals fluttered through the autumn sky.

"Takeo."

Yuki stood tall.

She took a deep breath of the air from the sky and sea where Chijiwa had once flown.

She closed her eyes.

Placing a hand on her stomach, she spoke to the one she loved in her heart.

—Takeo.

—I will take care of the life you left behind.

—I’ll teach our child how amazing you were.

—How kind, noble, and strong you were.

—And then, this child will pass it on to the next generation. And they, too, will pass it on.

—You will always be admired.

—Everyone will say, "Thank you."

—So rest easy.

—Oh, and since I’ve come all the way here...

—I’ll sing the song you loved.

Yuki opened her eyes.

Somewhere in the endless blue sky and sea, it felt as if Chijiwa was smiling.

She straightened her back and took a deep breath of the refreshing air.

To the beloved who had vanished beyond the flow of time.

To the noble and courageous warriors of the sky.

To all the warriors resting in this sea, both friend and foe alike.

—I won’t forget.

I’ll sing this song.

—Thank you, Takeo.

Let it reach the sky.

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

I’d ask the seagulls where you are, crossing over many clouds

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

I’ll just look at your back, without saying a word, because you won’t answer

You’re always looking at the horizon, at the endless sky

So I’ll send you only my prayers

I love you.

I love you.

Forever.

I love you.

(End)

References

   The Samurai of the Sky by Saburo Sakai, Kōjinsha NF Library
   The Continuation of Samurai of the Sky by Saburo Sakai, Kōjinsha NF Library
   The Zero Fighter Ace by Toru Iwamoto, Kōjinsha NF Library
   The Battle Lessons of the Dive Bomber Commander by Yoshio Abe, Kōjinsha NF Library
   Shot Down: The US-Japan Air War by Minoru Toyoda, Kōjinsha NF Library
   The Last of the Rabaul Air Corps by Kimio Watanabe, Kōjinsha NF Library
   The Story of the Flower Youth Pilots by Akira Yazawa, Kōjinsha NF Library
   Test Pilot: The Life of Ikuo Morikawa, First Class Pilot by Eiji Nambori, Kōjinsha NF Library
   The Fate of the Zero Fighter by Saburo Sakai, Kodansha
   The Secret Techniques of the Zero Fighter by Kanichiro Kato, Kodansha
   Pacific Aviation War History: The Sea of Heroes by Shiro Mori, Ushio Shobo
   Battleship Island: Living in a Marine Industrial City by Senko Ito and Kiyoshi Akui, Iwanami Shoten
   The Illustrated Scrolls of the Chikuho Coal Mines by Sahei Yamamoto, Ashi Shobo
   Historical Gungun Series: [Definitive Edition] Pacific War Volumes 1-10 by Gakushū Kenkyūsha

Koroku Inumura

The second volume was written 95% out of personal passion. "Imperial Japanese Army!" "Male Harem!" It's packed with things that are considered taboo in light novels, but I sincerely thank the readers who continue to enjoy it each time.

Back to Vol.1

Return to Main Page

Forward to Sequel