Toaru Hikuushi e no Yasoukyoku:Chapter2

Chapter 2: The Beautiful Sky

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

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

Now, in the current era—

On October 10th, Imperial Year 3210—

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

This airfield was named "Mitobaru."

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

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

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

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

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

"I look forward to working with you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chijiwa, along with his new mechanic, busied himself inspecting his Beagle aircraft, which stood lined up beside the runway. He personally checked the fuselage, main wings, side wings, and forewings for any loose rivets, inspected the hydraulic pressure of the landing gear and struts, then climbed into the cockpit to ensure that the flight controls responded optimally. Most pilots left their aircraft’s maintenance entirely to the mechanics, but by thoroughly inspecting and adjusting even the smallest details himself, Chijiwa ensured he could push his plane’s performance to its limits during combat. The slightest adjustment to the controls, or even how hard he pressed the foot pedals, could make a huge difference in the heat of battle, determining the outcome of a dogfight. It was this meticulous attention to detail that allowed him to fully trust his aircraft in combat.

Sweating from the effort, Chijiwa spent the entire morning inspecting his beloved plane. Sugino and Matsuda, following their leader’s example, were just as focused on maintaining their own planes. Around them, the other standby pilots lounged in the sun, played board games, or idly criticized three-penny novels.

The peaceful atmosphere was abruptly shattered by the sound of the alarm bell.

The sharp clang of the bell next to the command centre echoed through the air. As soon as Chijiwa heard it, he tossed the altimeter he had been cleaning back onto the instrument panel and started the hydrogen fuel stack of his aircraft. Over the loudspeaker, the base operator announced the enemy’s approach.

"Spotting post reports: two enemy light cruisers, ten large bombers, and thirty escort fighters approaching from 230 degrees. Estimated distance: 25 nautical miles from Victoria Sea. Time: 1125."

The enemy was launching a surprise attack. It was likely that both attack squadrons had passed each other in the air. Since both sides were tasked with bombing each other’s bases, they had likely spotted each other but chose to continue on their respective missions rather than engage. Now, it was up to the remaining pilots to defend the base. Both bases were about to experience a chaotic day, with their standby pilots scrambling to respond.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!" "Move! Move!"

The idle non-commissioned pilots leaped up all at once and sprinted toward the parked planes, scrambling up the ladders and diving into whichever cockpit they could find. Unlike pre-planned air raids, where pilots were assigned to specific planes, intercepting an enemy attack was a free-for-all. The first to take off got to fly, while the unlucky ones had to sit in a bunker, knees hugged to their chest, waiting for the others to return. Some pilots were so desperate that they ran across the runway in nothing but loincloths, not even bothering to put on their flight helmets.

Fortunately, Chijiwa and his two squamates, who had already been inspecting their planes, were among the first to take off. As the DC motor roared to life and connected to the propeller shaft, the propeller began to spin.

They were the first out of the line, while other planes were still performing instrument checks. As he entered take-off roll, the bumps on the uneven runway sent vibrations through the control stick.

Before him, the red soil of the runway and the deep blue sky stretched out.

As Chijiwa pulled back on the stick, the runway vanished. The air control centre, barracks, and hangars that had been visible in his peripheral vision dropped away below him.

The world turned to pure blue.

And in his Beagle, Chijiwa relished this second-favorited moment of flying.

No mountains, no rivers, no dense forests, no jagged coastlines stood in his way—just the vast, simple expanse of sky and clouds.

Its simplicity was what made it so beautiful, yet so ruthless. As he spread his wings in this serene, pristine place, it was as if memories of the womb came flooding back. The sensation was one of complete fulfillment, lacking nothing, utterly quiet and clean, with his entire existence seemingly expanding into infinity. Every time he flew, Chijiwa felt as though he had been reborn.

And now, he scanned the horizon, searching for the worthy opponent who would challenge him, the one whose skill would push him beyond his limits. Today, too, he prayed that young man would appear in the skies.

---Come out, Seagull.

Climbing to an altitude of 6,700 meters, they circled leisurely above Miyako and Harubaru Base. When on interception duty, this altitude was Chijiwa’s favorited spot. As air combat naturally lowered their altitude, he preferred to start from a high position whenever possible.

Today's battle was an interception mission, so there was no need to fly endlessly over the sea. As long as they patrolled the area around the base, the enemy would come to them. Unlike an invasion mission that attacked enemy airfields, there was no need to worry about conserving power for the return trip, and even if they were hit and forced to bail out, they would land in friendly territory, increasing their chances of survival.

── Air combat is easier.

Such thoughts crossed his mind. None of the pilots sent to the frontlines despised battle. Those without such a temperament were never selected for flight school in the first place. Only those with the resolve to face death on the battlefield and the determination to fight until the day their life ended could make it here. Those flying in the skies now were the few elite chosen for their skill, spirit, and even their very souls.

With that pride in their hearts, the pilots of the Otonashi Air Squadron took to the skies one after another. Twenty-seven operational aircraft. A sufficient number. From the distant second airfield, they could see the carrier-based strike force launching. Since the enemy attack was backed by airships, true combat wouldn’t be possible with fighters alone.

Chijiwa cast his gaze over the airspace. He wanted to approach the enemy undetected and strike with a surprise attack. The sooner he spotted the enemy, the easier it would be to launch repeated attacks before they could drop their bombs. The sky was covered in six to seven layers of clouds, with stratocumulus and broken clouds swimming around at an altitude of about 4,000 meters. If he could use those clouds effectively... as he thought that, several glimmers caught the corner of his eye.

"...!"

He strained his eyes. At a horizontal distance of about 23,000 meters, where an ordinary person could not see, Chijiwa spotted the enemy aircraft formation.

At 8,000 meters, a formation of large bombers, and just below that, at 6,000 meters, thirty escort fighters.

He wanted to take care of the fighter squadron first, but the enemy was approaching from a fairly high altitude as well.

── Hit from below.

Chijiwa immediately decided to abandon his altitude advantage. Considering the position of the clouds, the enemy’s future location, and their own movement speed, this was the best choice.

As always, none of his allies had noticed the enemy aircraft. Shaking his wings, Chijiwa extended one hand from the cockpit to signal to the others.

"Follow me, I will guide you."

The remaining twenty-six aircraft silently followed Chijiwa. In the non-commissioned ranks, there was an unwritten rule that the pilot who first spotted the enemy took command. With Chijiwa leading, there was a sense of confidence. The Otonashi Air Squadron, led by Chijiwa, descended into the clouds at 4,000 meters.

They quickly broke through the clouds and levelled out.

Even when they looked up, the clouds obscured the enemy formation. Although they knew the enemy’s target was Miyako and Harubaru Airfield, they didn’t know the approach route, so from here on, they could only rely on intuition to make contact.

Chijiwa stared intently at the blue sky ahead. He focused all his awareness on his ears, ignoring the sound of his own propellers, trying to pick up the faint sounds of enemy aircraft echoing through the sky. Like listening for a mosquito’s buzz amidst the roar of a tiger. Amid the familiar drone of his own plane’s propeller, there was a slight, almost imperceptible, off-key sound, like a small pebble among the mud.

At that moment, Chijiwa pulled back on the control stick and opened the throttle.

Ascending back into the thin stratocumulus clouds, he burst out above them.

Sure enough, the underbelly of the enemy fighter formation was right in front of Shin-den's nose.

── Attack first and win.

It looked like an ideal air battle. The enemy hadn’t noticed them and was leisurely exposing their soft underbellies. Although ascending with clouds behind them made them easier to spot, these enemy pilots were inexperienced. To monitor the area below their aircraft, they would have to roll over and look up at the ground from the cockpit, but most pilots found that troublesome and neglected it. Their laziness would cost them their lives.

From a blind spot, Chijiwa led his twenty-six aircraft, creeping up on the enemy.

The enemy planes grew larger. Today’s opponents weren’t Aires II. These smaller planes looked agile, with four 15mm machine guns protruding from their wings. The refined cowling design suggested they were equipped with the latest DC motors. These were new fighter models, the likes of which he had never seen before.

At a distance of seventy meters, they closed in to a sure-kill range, and like a hunting dog sinking its teeth into a lamb’s belly, they struck.

A volley from their 30mm machine guns blew the enemy plane to pieces. The enemy pilot likely died without even realizing what had happened.

── Ah...

As Chijiwa watched the shattered plane fall toward the sea, a deep sense of satisfaction welled up in his chest.

Flying in the skies and shooting down enemy planes—this was Chijiwa's greatest joy.

Air combat itself was a pleasure. He had no cheap pity for the enemy. Both friend and foe—those who flew in these skies were all the same breed. Anyone who wasn’t couldn’t survive here.

Chijiwa pierced through the centre of the enemy formation and targeted another plane, pressing the attack.

Two bursts of flame scorched the blue sky. The enemy formation, finally realizing they were under attack, scattered in panic. At that moment, the twenty-six trailing planes swooped in.

In no time, a chaotic melee ensued, with friend and foe tangled in a swirling battle.

── Spot the enemy and kill them.

Take down any enemy that comes into sight. In such a melee, that was the most effective approach. Sugino and Matsuda broke formation and each headed toward their targets.

Cutting down the weak soldiers from within.

Chijiwa fought with an overwhelming intensity, outclassing all the others. Three planes, four planes—the number of kills quickly mounted.

Every time he spotted an enemy, he closed in, firing from a sure-kill distance and taking them down in a single volley, like drawing a sword in one smooth motion. Without even watching the planes he shot down fall, he moved on to the next prey, cutting them down with the sharp, deadly precision of a strike.

If these had been the usual opponents, they would have fled in disarray, but today's enemy was more tenacious. Even after witnessing Chijiwa’s extraordinary skill, they did not retreat and continued to attack. It seemed that the best pilots from all squadrons had been sent to La Vista Airfield, making today’s opponents tougher than usual. Sugino and Matsuda were desperately fending off the attacking enemy planes, but some managed to slip through and fire at Chijiwa.

── Seagull?

He had hoped it was Seagull, but it quickly became clear that it wasn’t. It was like the way judo black belts could only gauge each other’s strength after locking grips. The opponent's skill wasn’t clear at first glance, but once the bullets flew, their level of skill was immediately apparent by how they dodged. Skilled pilots dodged to the side the moment they were shot at, while weaker ones, unable to avoid the shots, would just look around cluelessly, searching for where they were being attacked. Such carelessness in the middle of an air battle sealed their fate.

── No.

After slashing through the weaker enemies, leaving an explosion in his wake, Chijiwa’s cold eyes scanned the skies. He couldn’t help but search for Seagull among the enemy formations.

── It would be easier if I could recognize Seagull at a glance.

He thought selfishly. Just like how he painted a beagle on his own plane, he wished Seagull would put some kind of distinctive mark on their aircraft, so he could spot them right away. It was too much trouble to have to engage them to know their skill level.

── What a bother.

Blowing up the enemy before him without a second thought, Chijiwa inexplicably grew irritated.

No matter how many enemies he shot down, he felt a gnawing hunger. He had already taken down seven planes today. He should have felt satisfied, but the more weak enemies he dispatched, the more his thirst grew.

Since that duel with Seagull, Chijiwa’s inner self had been rewritten.

── I won’t be able to quench this thirst unless I take down Seagull.

That single defeat etched into the sky.

The shame increased with each passing day. He couldn’t wash away the bitterness.

And alongside that shame, the desire to face that man again, under equal conditions, burned even stronger.

Not chasing down a reconnaissance plane with a squadron.

But facing each other in fighter planes, with the goal of shooting the other down.

If the strongest warriors from both sides could step forward and fight one-on-one under equal conditions.

That moment would surely be a blissful one. He would wish for that moment to never end.

── I want to win that duel.

In the heat of air combat, where not even a moment's carelessness was allowed, Chijiwa found himself lost in such thoughts.

No matter how skilled, if one neglected the enemy before them and played around with memories of Seagull, they would be taken from behind.

"Nu."

Chijiwa realized his own lapse.

One enemy fighter had crept up behind him. Sugino and Matsuda had been separated in the melee, and they were no longer flying in formation.

"Ugh!"

He increased his speed. But the enemy clung tightly to his tail, firing its 15mm machine guns. As he dodged with footbar manoeuvres, he glanced back. The enemy was about 130 meters behind. Not that skilled, but they had the guts to stick to him, determined not to give up the advantageous position they had gained.

── I was careless.

Acknowledging that, Chijiwa increased his speed before pulling up to ascend.

It was a somewhat diagonal loop. The enemy followed closely.

── I’d prefer not to use this.

── But I have no choice.

What he was about to do was a last resort for a fighter pilot. Ideally, air combat involved spotting the enemy first, sneaking up undetected, and taking them down in one strike. Once the enemy had you in their sights and started tailing you, using a special technique was far from ideal. While silently berating himself for his lapse, Chijiwa eased the left footbar and kicked the right footbar at the apex of his loop.

The plane slid sideways, and he gently tilted the control stick, slightly lowering the right wing.

The inverted aircraft, on the verge of stalling, entered a peculiar floating state, like a car drifting through the air.

The pursuing enemy fighter surged forward.

Chijiwa found himself staring at the exposed belly of the enemy plane as it floated ahead.

── Left roll.

The Imperial Navy’s top-class aerial combat technique.

Lesser pilots would stall if they tried it. But Chijiwa’s precision caused the aircraft to hover in the air as if suspended by invisible strings.

Without a moment's hesitation, Chijiwa unloaded his 30mm machine guns into the enemy’s flank, blowing it to pieces. Through the canopy, he caught a glimpse of the enemy pilot looking ahead with a puzzled expression, likely unaware of what had happened. He perished in flames without knowing his fate.

── Seagull.

Seagull had pulled off the same left roll manoeuvre right in front of Chijiwa. But not in a fighter plane—in a reconnaissance aircraft. Chijiwa barely predicted Seagull’s move and countered with the same technique, but just as he thought he had won, the future queen, Fana, had shot him down.

── The Ismael Turn.

Apparently, in the Levamme Imperial Air Force, they called the left roll manoeuvre the Ismael Turn. The memory of Seagull’s Ismael Turn was still etched in Chijiwa’s mind. Just remembering it made him feel awestruck—it had been such a graceful turn.

── I want to dance with you again.

Once more, Chijiwa found himself thinking such things in the midst of air combat.

Only able to see her in photographs, that graceful, pure demeanour. Her delicate features and long black hair that shimmered with strands of light. Her slender figure, with curves reminiscent of a stringed instrument. The modest, gentle, and refined way she spoke on the radio. As a navy lieutenant, he shouldn’t be giddy like a child over the visit of a mere female singer in the midst of this war, yet he found himself wondering if he might be able to slip in and get an autograph amidst the commotion.

── Chijiwa must be elated.

For some reason, that man was also a fan of Mizumori Misora. If, by some chance, the title of "Ace of the Amatsukami Navy" had an effect, and Mizumori Misora and Chijiwa ended up in the same photograph, the flames of jealousy would undoubtedly consume him. Just imagining it made him grit his teeth.

── Ridiculous.

── This is ridiculous, Hasami Shinichi. Are you really such a small man?

Taking a deep breath while lying down, Hasami chastised himself for his weakness. Yet, if he let his guard down, his face would return to a grin, and his thoughts would drift to playful fantasies about Mizumori Misora.

The next morning.

Chijiwa lay in his bed, listening to Mizumori Misora’s record. Then,

“Lieutenant───!!”

Sugino burst into the room, shouting, and stood stiffly at attention, his voice booming through the walls.

“Lieutenant, something terrible has happened! This is a catastrophe! Heaven and earth are about to be flipped upside down!”

“Be quiet.”

“Yes, sir!”

Sugino immediately fell silent, sweat dripping down his face, standing motionless. He was clearly very agitated, breathing heavily through his mouth.

“Leave.”

“Yes, sir!”

At the order, Sugino swiftly turned on his heel and left.

After Sugino left the barracks, Chijiwa closed his eyes and continued listening to Misora’s song. This time, Matsuda approached and stood stiffly at his side, his voice firm and composed.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant!”

“What is it?”

“Permission to report, sir!”

“Speak.”

“Lieutenant───!!”

Just as Matsuda opened his mouth to speak, Sugino ran in from behind, his eyes brimming with tears. It seemed he had been hiding behind the door, listening in. With a sorrowful expression, he stood next to Matsuda and raised his voice desperately.

“Why!? Why was I dismissed while Matsuda is allowed to report!?”

“Because you’re too intense.”

“That’s cruel! It’s too much! We’re in the same squad, but we’re treated so differently!”

“Be quiet.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Leave.”

“Yes, sir!”

Sugino, wiping his nose, swiftly left.

“So, what is your report?”

Chijiwa asked from his bed. Matsuda, feeling slightly awkward, cleared his throat and relayed what he had heard from their fellow non-commissioned officers.

“I heard from Captain Hasami that in one week, Mizumori Misora will be visiting our Otonashi Air Squadron.”

“…………”

Chijiwa remained silent, staring at the ceiling.

“Everyone is very excited. It seems an exchange meeting will be arranged, and we’ll get to hear her sing in person.”

“…………”

“Mizumori herself strongly requested to visit our squadron, and it’s said that since you’re the ace of our squadron, you may even meet her in person. If she finds out you’re a fan of her records, I’m sure she’ll be delighted.”

Matsuda smiled as he said this, glancing at Chijiwa’s face, and noticed something was off.

“Lieutenant?”

Matsuda had expected Chijiwa to be overjoyed. He had come to report in secret, hoping to see his respected squad leader’s happy reaction.

But Chijiwa’s face had turned pale.

He looked more ashen than Matsuda had ever seen, his eyes wide open, frozen as he stared at the ceiling.

“Uh, are you feeling unwell?”

“…………”

“Lieutenant, your complexion is… that…”

Matsuda had never seen Chijiwa like this before. Even in the heat of battle, Chijiwa was always calm and collected, fearless. But now, after hearing about Mizumori Misora’s visit, the blood had drained from his face.

Slowly, Chijiwa sat up.

He lowered his feet to the edge of the bed, placing a hand on his forehead as he looked down, deep in thought. His actions conveyed an unexpected emotion—fear.

“…Lieutenant?”

Matsuda timidly called out to the unmoving Chijiwa. After a long, far too long silence, Chijiwa finally spoke, still with his face downcast.

“…Tell them I’m not here.”

“…What?”

“Tell Mizumori that Chijiwa Takeo isn’t in the Otonashi Air Squadron. Say I’m gone.”

Matsuda’s usually sharp mind was thrown into confusion. He had no idea what Chijiwa was talking about.

“Not here…? But Lieutenant, you’re the ace of our squadron.”

“If Mizumori believes it, that’s fine. Chijiwa isn’t here. He’s gone. No, he’s probably dead somewhere. Tell her that.”

Matsuda finally realized that Chijiwa was in a state of panic. As he hesitated to respond, the door to the barracks suddenly slammed open, and Hasami stormed in, his face twisted in anger.

“Is Chijiwa hereee?!”

Matsuda stood at attention and replied sharply, while Hasami, still fuming, strode over with large steps.

“You! What have you done?! Did you send Mizumori Misora a fan letter or something?! I won’t forgive you for going behind my back, you coward!”

Hasami shouted, his rage palpable as he grabbed Chijiwa’s collar, shaking him.

Chijiwa, still holding his head in his hand, didn’t even look up.

“…What is it now?”

“Why did Mizumori personally request to take a sightseeing flight with you?! Explain yourself!”

Hasami demanded, practically out of breath after his tirade.

Chijiwa, still silent, finally lifted his hand from his forehead and looked up at Hasami with a tired expression.

“A sightseeing flight… with just the two of us?”

His voice was hoarse, like that of a dying old woman. This was the man who always descended from the fiercest air battles with a cool, composed expression, now reduced to a haggard figure.

“Mizumori insists on sitting in the rear seat of the ace’s plane! The commander approved it as a way to promote our squadron! Why you?! Why does it have to be you when I’m also a squad captain and a lieutenant?!”

Stomping his feet like a child, Hasami’s frustration boiled over. But Chijiwa let out a long sigh, then suddenly stood up, grabbing Hasami’s shoulders with both hands and shaking him.

“Y-You take my place…! You’re right, you should take her! You’re a perfect match! Fly with her, I’m going back to the Kumo-tsuru Squadron!”

As Hasami was shaken back and forth, he widened his eyes.

“W-What are you talking about?! Wait, wait… yes, you’re right! If you insist, I’ll take her instead! But wait, that’s not what this is about! Why did she choose you?!”

Hasami, furious again, grabbed Chijiwa’s collar and began to choke him.

“…Hasa…mi… I’m… choking…”

“Why does a rough, insensitive brute like you get to fly with Mizumori Misora, huh?! What have you done to deserve this, you bastard?!”

As the two clearly deranged lieutenants quarrelled, Matsuda bravely intervened. Other non-commissioned officers, hearing the commotion, rushed in to separate the two, holding them back before they could begin a full-on fight.

“Take my place! I’ll leave the island before Mizumori arrives!”

“Why you?! Why does it have to be you?!”

Even as they were dragged away by their comrades, the two continued to hurl angry words at each other like bickering dogs.

After several air battles and the passing of regular days, the familiar sound of the morning bell rang.

“They sure come often.”

Matsuda, resting in the barracks, muttered quietly.

“I wanted to fight!”

Sugino, also frustrated, glanced out the window. The morning sky was already filled with aircraft taking off to intercept the enemy.

The loudspeakers announced the enemy’s details. It was a formation of about twenty planes from the island of Scion, not a particularly large-scale attack.

The three members of Chijiwa’s squadron were in the barracks, so they couldn’t participate in the interception. The other pilots, stationed in the standby area, were likely racing to their planes. The fighter squadrons were divided into morning and afternoon shifts, alternating on standby.

Chijiwa, looking annoyed, stopped the phonograph and got up reluctantly.

“Lieutenant, let’s head to the air-raid shelter.”

Matsuda urged, but Chijiwa raised a hand to stop him.

“No, the forest will do today.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“The air-raid shelter is too stuffy.”

“Then let’s all go to the coconut grove!”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Frankly, you’re more stifling than the shelter.”

“Lieutenant!”

“Sugino, calm down… Understood, then we’ll take shelter. Please, Lieutenant, stay safe. Today is an important day, so please return as soon as the battle is over…”

“…………”

As Matsuda finished speaking, a crestfallen, spiritless air seemed to envelop Chijiwa. Realizing he had said too much, Matsuda hurried to correct his words.

“No, I mean, of course, if you’re not feeling well today, you may not come out of the forest… yes. That would be understandable. We’ll take our leave now…”

Dragging Sugino by the neck, Matsuda hastily retreated from the barracks.

Chijiwa managed to regain his composure and left the building, heading for the coconut grove.

If the enemy managed to bomb the base, their target would be the runway, hangars, command posts, or barracks—military facilities. As long as he stayed in the grove, there was no risk of being targeted. Besides, the bombers would be driven off by the Shinden squadron before they reached the airfield, so bombing rarely occurred.

The dense tropical forest surrounded him. Inhaling the strong scent of sheep’s teeth, he looked up to see the blue sky through the jagged green leaves. Amid the bird songs, the distant roar of propellers echoed overhead.

He silently trudged forward, cutting through the underbrush. After about ten minutes, he emerged from the forest.

Before him lay a cliff. Green coral reefs jutted out from the azure sea. Below, about twenty meters down, gentle waves lapped against the rocky shoreline.

In the sky about ten thousand meters away, he could see friendly aircraft attacking the enemy. Chijiwa stood and watched the Shinden squadron's assault. The Imperial forces had the advantage in numbers, skill, and equipment. The large enemy bombers were torn apart by the Shinden’s machine guns, falling one after another into the sea, trailing long grey plumes. As twenty or so Shinden planes launched repeated attacks, the enemy eventually turned tail and fled. Spurred on by their success, the Shinden squadron pursued them. La Vista Airfield was about five hundred kilometres away, but with the Shinden’s range, they could engage the enemy and return home.

Chijiwa sat on the edge of the cliff, gazing at the now-peaceful sky.

Looking out over the sea from such a height naturally brought to mind memories of Battleship Island.

It had been about eight years since he left the island as part of the first class of aviation cadets.

So much had changed.

A deep sense of nostalgia welled up within him, a faint longing he hadn’t felt in a long time.

That afternoon, Chijiwa remained alone at the cliffside.

He lay back, legs dangling over the edge, and gazed up at the clear sky.

In the afternoon, Chijiwa was supposed to go to the pilot standby station at Miyako and Harubaru Airfield, but for various reasons, he didn’t want to go. Even if there was an enemy attack, there were fewer operational aircraft than there were pilots on standby, so it would become a game of musical chairs, with the fastest person winning. Having always secured a plane in the past, Chijiwa decided that today he would let the other pilots have their turn and made up his mind to take a nap with his hands behind his head. He reasoned with himself that after a week of dodging bullets on the battlefield every day, it wouldn’t hurt to rest for just one day.

The sun began its slow descent from the southern sky.

Listening to the gentle sound of the sea and the birds calling to one another, bathed in the warm sunlight, Chijiwa lay still, waiting for sleep to come. It was incredibly peaceful, the quiet enveloping him, a long-awaited rest, yet sleep refused to come.

── Has she arrived by now?

── I hope everything stays calm.

He couldn’t stop worrying about the situation at the base. What concerned him most was Hasami. That man seemed to be a fan of Mizumori Misora, but…

Just as he was about to close his eyes in worry,

“There you are!!”

A sudden, shrill voice struck from behind like a whip, causing him to jump up in surprise.

“So you were here after all, Chijiwa! I’ve been looking for you!”

Turning around, Chijiwa saw Hasami standing there, his face tense, speaking in an unnaturally casual and exaggerated tone.

“………………”

Chijiwa shot his colleague the coldest glare imaginable before shifting his gaze behind him.

From the shadows of the coconut grove, a woman appeared.

“I found him! This is the man you were looking for, Chijiwa, the ace of our squadron!” Hasami proudly announced to the woman, his voice filled with nervousness, as he saluted her.

Her long black hair reached just past her shoulders, and her clear blue eyes were like the autumn sky. She wore a white blouse with a navy-blue chest decoration, and a matching navy skirt, the hem fluttering in the sea breeze.

It was none other than Mizumori Misora, standing there in her elegant attire.

She had apparently already arrived at the Trevas Atoll.

“………………”

Chijiwa’s expression twisted.

Misora stood silently for a moment, showing no emotion as she looked directly at Chijiwa.

“………………”

“………………”

Neither of them said a word.

Misora continued to stare at Chijiwa expressionlessly, while Chijiwa averted his eyes in discomfort. When his gaze landed on Hasami, he glared at his colleague with such intensity it could pierce through him.

Even the dull-witted Hasami finally realized something was off between the two.

“Um, is something wrong…?”

Misora looked up at Hasami, smiling sweetly. It was the kind of smile that could be captured on film and shown to the world, but it was directed only at Hasami.

Hasami felt as if a cannonball had torn through his chest.

“Pilot, thank you so much for guiding me here. You’ve been a tremendous help.”

Her voice was refined, soothing like a clear stream, and it was meant for Hasami alone. Hasami’s expression softened more than ever before.

“Oh, no, this was nothing at all.”

“I would like to speak with him alone for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

“Huh…? You and Chijiwa, alone…?”

Misora looked apologetic, her face showing a hint of sadness.

“…I’m sorry. There’s something I absolutely must ask him…”

Her voice was filled with delicate sorrow, and it wrapped around Hasami’s mind like a vine, causing him to be completely captivated.

“My apologies! I should’ve been more considerate…! Please excuse me!”

As he turned to leave, Chijiwa’s request stopped him.

“No, Hasami, I want you to stay.”

Hasami turned back, his face showing confusion.

Chijiwa, his expression serious, spoke in a tone more sombre than Hasami had ever heard before.

“I need you here. I need you.”

A chill ran down Hasami’s spine. Misora’s request had been easy to comply with, but Chijiwa’s plea filled him with a deep sense of unease and discomfort.

“Excuse me!!”

Ignoring his colleague's plea, Hasami quickly left, holding back the urge to vomit.

Now, only Misora and Chijiwa remained on the cliff.

“………………”

“………………”

The sound of the sea and the birds filled the silence between them.

Misora continued to gaze at Chijiwa, who still avoided her eyes awkwardly.

But slowly, Misora’s shoulders began to rise, her legs spread wide as she planted her feet firmly on the ground, and she placed her hands on her hips.

The graceful, refined image of the lady singing with birds by the window was gone. No, the figure of the beloved national singer, Mizumori Misora, had completely vanished.

Now, standing before Chijiwa in open anger, was Yuki Yoshioka, the woman who had once kicked thugs to the curb on a remote island.

“Do you have an excuse?”

Her cold, sharp words came from the mouth of the 20-year-old Yuki. Chijiwa looked down.

“…I tried to… do my best…”

Mumbling his words, he then gathered his resolve and looked up at Yuki.

“…Go ahead and hit me.”

Without hesitation, Yuki took a large step forward, biting her lip hard. Instead of slapping him, she clenched her right fist tightly and struck Chijiwa’s left cheek with all her might.

“Guh…”

Yuki had fought plenty of times on Battleship Island. Her punch was practiced and powerful.

“You idiot, you fool, you’re such an idiot, Take-chan!”

Her voice turned tearful as she pounded Chijiwa’s chest with her fists.

“I was so worried! I couldn’t stop thinking about it, I couldn’t sleep at night!”

Yuki let out all her pent-up emotions, while Chijiwa remained silent.

“I thought you might have died! I even called the air squadron to ask!”

“…………”

“You promised!”

“…………”

“You said you’d write me letters!”

She continued to hit Chijiwa’s chest with her fists.

“Ever since the war started, you haven’t written a single letter!”

As she struck him, Chijiwa groaned out a response.

“…In the military… all letters are… censored…”

“I wrote twenty letters in ten months!”

“…I read them all… I still have every one of them…”

“And you didn’t send a single reply!”

“…I’m sorry… I wanted to reply… but having others read my letters… I just couldn’t…”

Chijiwa could only repeat his apologies. All outgoing and incoming military letters were opened and checked before being delivered to their destination. The thought of that made Chijiwa reluctant to write back. He should have been more considerate of Yuki’s feelings, but even though he understood this logically, he just couldn’t bring himself to write a reply.

“You’re awful, awful, awful…”

Yuki didn’t hide her tears as she pounded Chijiwa’s chest with her fists.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was wrong…”

Chijiwa continued to apologize. Even as Yuki grew tired and dropped her fists, resting her forehead against his chest and crying, all he could do was keep apologizing.

“Well, I figured you wouldn’t write any letters, knowing you.”

Yuki had already returned to her usual self, sitting next to Chijiwa on the cliff, staring out at the deep blue sea. Her long black hair fluttered in the sea breeze. To hide her identity as a Vestad, Yuki had dyed her golden hair black.

“I wanted to write… but…”

“It’s fine. I figured it was something like that.”

As she spoke, Yuki playfully rubbed her fist against Chijiwa’s cheek.

“But I really was worried. I couldn’t stop thinking about it every day. I even thought about quitting my job.”

Chijiwa, surprised, looked at Yuki while she rubbed his cheek.

“Why would you quit?”

“I wouldn’t really quit. That’s just how worried I was.”

“I see. As long as you didn’t actually quit, that’s fine.”

Relieved, Chijiwa turned his gaze back to the sea. Yuki, still seated beside him, looked up at Chijiwa’s face with dissatisfaction.

“You’re so dense… Seriously, how can you be this clueless?” “……?”

“Nothing.”

“…Shouldn’t you be heading back to the base? I heard your colleagues came along too.”

“Oh, yeah. After this, I’ve got to greet some important people, take some pictures, and then, the highlight of the day! A sightseeing flight with the Ace of Aces!”

Chijiwa’s head drooped forward at her words.

“…That. I don’t understand. Why do I have to do something like that?”

“Huh? Take-chan, don’t you want to? You promised we’d fly together ages ago.”

Yuki puffed out her cheeks. Chijiwa searched his memory and indeed recalled making such a promise back on Battleship Island after passing the aviation cadet test.

That was nearly eight years ago.

Yuki still remembered something like that?

“I’ve been looking forward to it this whole time. But no matter how long I waited, you never invited me. So, I pulled some strings to make sure you couldn’t escape.”

Chijiwa sighed, turning an exasperated expression toward Yuki.

“It’s wartime. …I have colleagues and subordinates. …If I take a woman flying, people will talk.”

“Who cares? Let them talk.”

“Besides, you have a very visible career. Not just visible—you’re the most famous person in Amatsukami. If I take you flying, people will start prying into our business.”

“Let them pry.”

“…You. What would you even say if someone asked what our relationship is?”

At those words, Yuki’s eyes gleamed as she stretched her neck forward, peering up at Chijiwa’s downturned face from below.

“What kind of relationship do we have, Take-chan?”

Chijiwa furrowed his brow, confused by the question.

“Relationship? …Well…”

He fell silent for a moment before tilting his head slightly.

“…I don’t know.”

Yuki’s hopeful expression gradually dimmed, and eventually, she sighed in disappointment.

“Hopeless.”

“…What?”

“Take-chan, you really have no talent besides flying, huh?”

“……………………”

“You don’t understand people’s feelings, do you?”

“How could I possibly?”

“You’re even confident about it! Well, I guess that’s just how you’ve always been. Sigh…”

Resigning herself, Yuki stood up and stretched. Then, as if to regain her composure, she smiled.

“Well, at least I’m glad I got to see you. It’s been about a year, right? I was really worried since we hadn’t had any contact since the war started.”

“…I tried to let you know I was alive. From now on, at the very least, I’ll write just to say that.”

“You don’t have to write anything fancy. Just tell me what you ate, how the weather was, or even just ‘A’ or ‘U’ or whatever. As long as I know you’re alive. I’m serious—I worry about you every day, you know?”

“…I’m sorry. …I didn’t want to make you worry.”

“Let me fly with you, and I’ll forgive you. So, just give in.”

Chijiwa scowled and reluctantly nodded. Yuki beamed and wrapped her arm around his.

“Hey…”

“It’s fine. Just while we’re walking through the forest. I’ll let go if anyone’s around.”

“………………”

Yuki happily linked her arm with Chijiwa’s, leaning closer to him. The scent of her hair, reminiscent of fresh citrus, reminded him of a warmth he had forgotten amidst the long days of war. For a moment, a sense of comfort washed over him, soothing the weariness inside.

Evening──.

“Smile! Pilot, please smile!”

Surrounded by a crowd of photographers and entertainment industry representatives, Chijiwa’s face twitched as he endured the countless flashes from strobes.

In front of the twin-seat reconnaissance plane, Saikaze, that they were about to take for a sightseeing flight, Misora was standing nearby, smiling for the camera with practiced ease.

Squinting against the blinding flashes, Chijiwa glanced around the airfield.

Every pilot, every mechanic, and every ground crew member at the airfield were casting envious looks in his direction.

He could feel their silent jealousy seeping toward him. "Why Chijiwa?" "Why with Mizumori Misora?" "How did he get to go on a sightseeing flight with her?" Thoughts like "Lucky him, I wish I could go," "I want to go too," "I’d love to," and "Even though he’ll just sit there in silence…" seemed to fill the air. The situation made him feel incredibly uncomfortable.

As the wind blew gently across the runway, Commander Shirase stepped forward and joined Chijiwa and Yuki for a commemorative photo.

“Well then, for a little while, show Mizumori around the skies. I trust in your flying skills.”

Chijiwa straightened his back, managing to respond with a stiff reply.

“Yes, sir.”

“Please take care of me, Lieutenant Chijiwa,” Yuki said, lowering her head politely with her usual refined tone.

“As you wish. He’s the ace of our squadron. It’ll be night soon, so there should be no enemy attacks. Please enjoy the skies over Miyako and Harubaru.”

After saying that, Commander Shirase helped Yuki board the rear seat of the Saikaze before Chijiwa climbed into the front seat.

“Don’t make that sour face. It’s the ace and the nation’s favorited singer—it’s a great combination. This is a chance to let the people know about the Otonashi Air Squadron, so make the most of it.”

Seeing through Chijiwa’s mood, Commander Shirase leaned in and spoke quietly. Reporters with movie cameras were already filming the event, and in a few days, footage of the ace and Mizumori Misora’s flight would be shown in cinemas across Amatsukami. After watching it, many young people would likely dream of becoming renowned warriors like Chijiwa, making their mark on the battlefield.

“…I’ll do my best.”

After Commander Shirase stepped back and the mechanics cleared away, Chijiwa started up the hydrogen fuel cell stack. The DC motor began to hum, and the plane vibrated gently.

At that moment, the communication tube buzzed.

“Hellooo. Is this Take-chan?”

Chijiwa grimaced and picked up the tube.

“If you talk unnecessarily during the flight, you’ll bite your tongue. Keep your chatter to a minimum.”

“This is the captain speaking. Take-chan, please respond.”

“Listen to what I’m saying.”

“Fly higher than the clouds. You need to fulfill that promise from eight years ago.”

Yuki’s words, playfully exaggerated, made Chijiwa scowl as he began the taxi. In no time, they reached take-off speed, and the Saikaze’s wheels lifted off the red dirt runway.

“Wow!”

Yuki exclaimed in excitement. The sensation of flying in a carrier-based plane was entirely different from that of a large aircraft or airship. Unlike the restricted view from a small passenger window, the tear-shaped canopy provided a 360-degree view of the sky. Beyond the thin layer of organic glass was nothing but sky, and the plane's vibrations were felt through both the seatback and the soles of their feet.

The pleasant pull of positive Gs pressed against Yuki’s body as the propeller’s roar filled the air like a fanfare. The Saikaze climbed the steps of the evening sky at a leisurely pace.

Looking down, the Miyako and Harubaru base grew smaller in the distance, and the entire Trevas Atoll came into view. The coral reef surrounding the central island cast a jade-coloured glow across the dimming sea.

“Amazing, it’s so beautiful!”

Yuki’s voice came through the communication tube. In return, Chijiwa’s reply was just a dismissive grunt. At an altitude of 3,000 meters, the Saikaze gently circled above the atoll.

“Take-chan, you’re flying! This is incredible, you’re really flying!”

“…Of course I am.”

The setting sun on the western horizon circled around the canopy, casting a crimson light over Yuki’s smiling face.

It was like a bonfire had been lit beyond the horizon, spreading its red hues across the world.

“So beautiful…”

Her voice trailed off in awe. It was a sunset unlike any Yuki had ever seen before, a moment in time that existed only for the two of them, bathed in red.

“This is incredible, Take-chan. Do you always get to see sights like this?”

“…I don’t look at the scenery.”

“Huh? You don’t look at the view?”

“In the sky… I’m always looking for enemy planes.”

“Oh… I see. Right, because of the war…”

“…But it’s fine now. You can forget about the war for a moment.”

Chijiwa’s low voice echoed through the communication tube.

“Oh… okay. Thank you. Yeah, let’s take a break for now.”

Brightening up, Yuki turned her gaze back to the sunset.

“The sea and the sunset. It reminds me of Battleship Island.”

“…Yeah.”

“We both made our dreams come true.”

“…I guess we did.”

“Thinking about it now, we’ve come a long way. I never imagined eight years ago that I’d be flying over the front lines with you like this.”

Yuki glanced at the setting sun.

The view from 4,500 meters up was breathtaking, the word “majestic” fitting perfectly. It was as if the horizon was ablaze, burning bright with the red hues of the sunset. The red sky spilled over into the silver sea below, like molten metal spreading across a melting disc.

“Wow…”

It was a mystical sight. The clouds between the Saikaze and the setting sun were bathed in the ethereal light of the boundary between day and night, taking on strange colours. Far below, a flock of birds glided effortlessly between the islands.

“This is amazing. The sky looks so different from up here than it does from an airship. It feels so close and vast.”

“…………”

“Thanks, Take-chan. I’m really happy right now. This might be the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“…………”

“Here, where no one can hear us, I could even sing a Levamme song. Should I sing one of your favourites? The one I used to sing a lot on that hill.”

“No… that’s fine.”

“Why not? Don’t be shy. We’re finally alone. Besides, I don’t often get the chance to sing Levamme songs out in the open.”

“…Yuki.”

“Hm? Oh, you called my name? What is it?”

After a brief pause, Chijiwa’s heavy, low voice came through the communication tube.

“…Don’t you have… anyone?”

“Huh? Anyone? …What do you mean by ‘anyone’?”

“…You know… someone. …Someone like that.”

“Like that? Who?”

“…Someone you’re close to. Personally.”

“Ohhh. Are you asking if I have a boyfriend or something?”

“…………”

The silence that followed hinted that Chijiwa was nodding in the affirmative.

In that moment, Yuki’s expression broke into a wide smile, her tone filled with amusement.

“I don’t! I’m completely single! My agency has an impenetrable barrier around me. The moment a guy comes near, they’re as good as dead. Even arranging this took a lot of careful planning—otherwise, it wouldn’t have been possible.”

“…………”

“Hey, hey, hey, are you worried? Worried that I’m seeing someone? Hey, Take-chan, are you seriously worried about that?”

Yuki leaned forward in her seat and shouted toward Chijiwa without even using the communication tube.

Chijiwa didn’t look back. He just sat there, holding the control stick in his right hand and the communication tube in his left.

“…Yuki.”

“Yeah?”

“…I think… you should… find someone in the mainland.”

“Huh?”

“…Someone who’ll stay with you. Someone who’ll make you happy.”

“……………………”

“…You deserve to be happy.”

“……………………”

“You shouldn’t be out here. …Not in a place like this.”

For once, Chijiwa’s words were clear and direct.

Yuki remained silent, listening to his voice through the communication tube. The sound of the wind and the hum of the propellers seemed distant.

“…What’s that supposed to mean? …That’s weird.”

“If you stay with me… you’ll only end up unhappy.”

“……………………”

“You should find someone… someone who can make you happy.”

“……………………”

“When that happens… I’ll be happy too.”

“……………………”

“A man who would make you chase after him to a warzone… isn’t right for you.”

“……………………Ha.”

Yuki let out a breath she had been holding. Then, grabbing the communication tube with force, she spoke firmly.

“What’s that supposed to mean? It’s not like I came here just to see you, Take-chan. I only came because it was for work.”

“……………………”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m super popular. There are plenty of kind, considerate people who approach me.”

“……………………”

“It’s true! I’m not lying.”

The edge of Yuki’s voice cracked slightly as she tried to sound tough.

“……………………”

“Even today, a lot of cool pilots at the base asked me for autographs. The lieutenant who guided me to you… what was his name again? Usagi-san or something, he was really kind and gentlemanly.”

“……Hasami.”

“Yeah, Lieutenant Hasami. He was way more thoughtful and manly than you…”

Yuki’s voice faltered as she reached that point, and she sniffled. Breathing heavily, she gripped the communication tube tightly.

“Idiot. Idiot. You idiot.”

“……………………”

“Take-chan, you’re such an idiot. Idiot. Idiot.”

Her voice grew tearful toward the end. Chijiwa stayed silent, receiving her insults with his back turned.

“Idiot. Just die. Fly up in the sky and die, idiot.”

Finally, Yuki broke down in tears, continuing to hurl insults as she cried. For Chijiwa, this was the hardest flight he had ever experienced. No intense training during his cadet days, nor any of the fierce aerial battles he had survived, compared to how painful this flight felt now.

As the Saikaze landed on the runway, a crowd of people approached with smiles. Camera flashes went off, and Commander Shirase stood on the wing, opening the rear canopy.

Mizumori Misora, expressionless like a mask, stood up from the rear seat and, with Commander Shirase’s help, descended to the ground. When a reporter asked for her thoughts, she coldly responded with “It was fun,” and without so much as a glance at the ace pilot, she walked away down the runway.

Chijiwa disembarked from the wing by himself. Commander Shirase, looking concerned, approached him.

“What happened?”

“…I’m not good at handling women.”

“Did you say something wrong?”

“I said something foolish.”

“I see… I’ll smooth things over on my end. It’s understandable. You, living on the battlefield, and Mizumori, would have little in common to talk about.”

Commander Shirase, showing consideration for Chijiwa, turned and walked away.

Chijiwa gazed toward the direction where Yuki had disappeared, his expression heavy with sorrow.

──I’m sorry.

He could only apologize in silence.

──I’m truly sorry.

Though Yuki called him dense, Chijiwa wasn’t completely oblivious. Every time he sensed Yuki’s feelings, he felt a profound happiness.

But.

──I’m not the same person I was back on Battleship Island.

──Now, I’m consumed by aerial combat.

──I can’t think about anything else.

Whether flying or walking on the ground, his thoughts were always focused on aerial battles.

As his flight hours increased, elements of his daily life that had nothing to do with aerial combat naturally faded away.

He knew he was a terrible person. But the ongoing wartime life had undoubtedly invaded and damaged his inner self, forcing him to change.

That was the proof. Even after hurting Yuki.

He looked up toward the sky.

What he saw projected in the blue sky was not Yuki’s tear-streaked face.

What floated in the sky was the Seagull’s salute.

His chest was deeply gouged.

“I’m the worst kind of person.”

Yoshioka Yuki, the girl who had supported him since childhood and helped him achieve his dream of becoming a pilot. Without her, he probably wouldn’t have even dared to dream of becoming a pilot. Instead, he would still be working in the coal mines at the bottom of the sea, resigned to a life of drudgery.

And yet. Despite trampling on the feelings of someone so precious to him, all he could think about was shooting down an enemy pilot whose name he didn’t even know.

“I’m a terrible man.”

From the depths of his heart, he cursed himself.

Yuki was the most important person to him in this world. Honestly, he adored her. That’s why he wanted her to be with a decent man and live a happy life.

As he stared at the enduring salute floating in the corner of the sky, Chijiwa prayed sincerely for that.

The next day, Yuki returned to the mainland. There was no message left for Chijiwa. That was fine, he thought.

All that remained for him were the long days of battle ahead.

†††

The attrition war between the Otonashi Air Squadron at Trevas Atoll and the La Vista Air Squadron on Scion Island continued for another two months. The 500-kilometer distance between the two bases made it difficult for either side to inflict a decisive blow using only their air units. In each engagement, the Otonashi Air Squadron would emerge victorious, but the La Vista Air Squadron would quickly replenish their losses, erasing any impact from their defeat. Though the Otonashi Air Squadron kept winning battle after battle, their forces were steadily diminishing, as their supplies couldn’t keep up.

The difference in national power between Amatsukami and Levamme was tenfold. The longer the war dragged on, the more the gap in industrial capacity became apparent. The Otonashi Air Squadron’s forces dwindled while the La Vista Air Squadron’s strength continued to grow. This was a predictable outcome even before the war began.

For this reason, the Imperial Army needed to challenge the Levamme main fleet to a decisive battle soon.

By concentrating all their forces on one critical point and securing a victory in a short time, the Imperial Army aimed to crush the Levamme’s will to fight, leading the Levamme people to tire of the war and push for a ceasefire. This was the ultimate goal of the Imperial Army. With Amatsukami’s weaker national power, this was the only way to fend off the Levamme threat. The citizens of Amatsukami dreamed of invading and occupying Levamme, but with such a vast difference in strength, that was a fantasy. This wasn’t a war they could win. The purpose of this war was to ensure that Levamme wouldn’t interfere with Amatsukami. If Levamme tried, they would pay dearly. If Amatsukami could make them understand that on a fundamental level, the war could end.

About two months after Chijiwa and his comrades were transferred to the Otonashi Air Squadron──

The scent of an impending "decisive battle" was thick in the air over the Victoria Sea.

Since the war began in January of this year, the Amatsukami forces had achieved victory after victory on both land and sea, taking control of all Levamme bases in the Eastern Seas and isolating San Martilia. With the Levamme Eastern Expeditionary Division cut off from communication with the mainland, they quickly surrendered, bringing an end to San Martilia’s 60-year role as a bridgehead to the Eastern Continent.

The Imperial Army completed its first-stage operation—securing all Levamme strongholds in the Eastern Seas. The Emperor of Amatsukami, upon receiving the report from the General Command of the Military High Command, immediately ordered the renaming of San Martilia back to its original name, Tsunehino. He also forbade plundering or violence against civilians and commanded the initiation of the second-stage operation.

The final goal of the second-stage operation was the “destruction of the enemy’s mobile fleet in the Western Seas” and the “capture of Scion Island.”

Once this operation was completed, the Levamme’s will to fight would be completely shattered.

Some expressed concerns about the logistics of establishing military bases so far from home, but the Imperial Army’s overwhelming strength had intoxicated the public. After decades of patiently waiting and strengthening the nation, the exhilarating victories were a breath of fresh air. There was no public sentiment against further military expansion. Newspapers and radio broadcasts enthusiastically reported on the bravery of the Imperial soldiers, stoking dreams of an invasion of Levamme. When a fight looks winnable, no one wants to settle for a mere decision victory—they want to knock their opponent out, ensuring they never get back up. This natural inclination of war itself demanded further expansion of the frontlines.

At first, it resembled the drifting of stratocumulus clouds.

However, amidst the dawn light, it gradually began to reveal its outlines and started to devour the twilight. A mass of iron, so massive that it distorted space.

The early winter sea was shaken by the thunderous roar of lift devices, reminiscent of distant thunder.

Soon, a grand fleet of 54 vessels dominated the skies about 200 nautical miles off the coast of Scion Island.

The Yagami Mobile Fleet.

That was the name given to this fleet by the Naval General Staff.

The shining crests on the bows of the ships facing westward all bore the imperial emblem of Amatsukami. An assembly of air carriers, air battleships, light and heavy air cruisers, destroyers, torpedo boats, escort ships, and supply ships—every type of vessel imaginable was present, making it the largest force ever amassed in the history of Amatsukami.

December 9, Imperial Year 3210, 5:40 AM.

At the command of the fleet commander, Rear Admiral Takechika Yagami, aboard the flagship Boufu, the massive fleet divided into four squadrons, and the air dominance squadron consisting of 112 aircraft was first launched from the flight decks of all six assigned regular air carriers.

This marked the beginning of the world's first major aerial battle between aircraft carriers, later known as the Battle of the Victoria Sea.

For Amatsukami, this was the first time such a large fleet had been sent to the Western Sea, beyond the Great Waterfall. To ensure victory, the Imperial Army committed six of its seven regular air carriers to this operation, along with the "tiger cub" super dreadnought air battleships Hida and Settsu, which were part of the fourth squadron. The world’s largest air battleships, which had been kept in reserve, were now unveiled.

After the 112 aircraft in the air dominance squadron took off, 250 combined bombers and torpedo bombers were launched from the six carriers. The target was not the fleet but the base airfields, so the torpedo bombers were armed with bombs instead of torpedoes. The combined force of around 360 aircraft set off toward La Vista Airfield on Scion Island.

Soon after, fourteen escort fighters were launched from the deck of the regular air carrier Unkaku. As the leader of this escort formation, Chijiwa gripped the control stick. With the second-stage operation underway, Chijiwa had returned from the Otonashi Air Squadron to the Unkaku Air Squadron. It wasn’t uncommon for such minor transfers to happen during major operations.

There was no exhilaration.

In the skies of the battlefield, Chijiwa’s mind always became increasingly calm.

At an altitude of 6,700 meters, following behind the formation leader Shinichi Hasami, his ever-watchful eyes were fixed on the sky and sea. Glancing into the distance, Chijiwa saw other air carriers also launching their escort units, protecting the carriers at an altitude of around 4,000 meters as per textbook procedures. Chijiwa ascended higher than the others, intending to attack from an advantageous altitude if they encountered the enemy.

Chijiwa’s wingmen, Sugino and Matsuda, were still by his sides. Whether in the air or on the ground, they had trained and lived together, knowing each other’s thoughts and actions. The impressive number of aircraft Chijiwa had shot down was a shared accomplishment of these three.

Chijiwa directed his sharp gaze toward the dawn sky.

The red on the horizon gradually faded, and the sun, once resembling an egg yolk, began to take on a brass hue.

Two hours after take-off, the first attack squadron returned. They seemed to have successfully attacked the airfield, as both the bombers and torpedo bombers had dropped all their bombs. However, while the fighter squadrons were mostly intact, the number of bombers and torpedo bombers had been significantly reduced. The enemy, having detected the approach of the carrier fleet, had put up fierce resistance with interceptors and anti-aircraft fire, resulting in far more damage than previous air raids.

The large formation orderly descended in a spiral, demonstrating the results of their daily training, and began landing on their respective carriers. The six large carriers, having landed on the sea surface to replenish their hydrogen fuel cells, were retrieving the aircraft.

While circling at an altitude of 6,000 meters, Chijiwa observed the deck of the Unkaku. He saw maintenance crews rushing about, rearming the returning torpedo bombers with new torpedoes.

It seemed that a reconnaissance plane had located the enemy’s mobile fleet.

Instead of air torpedoes, they were now loading naval torpedoes, indicating that the enemy was surface vessels, not airships. To maintain control of the Western Sea, it was more effective for the Imperial Navy to mass-produce surface vessels rather than build costly airships. If they planned to venture beyond the Great Waterfall, airships would be essential, but to hold the area on this side, surface vessels were sufficient. Thus, the Levamme Navy’s military strength in the Western Sea was vastly greater than in the Eastern Sea.

When attacking surface vessels, torpedoes, which could destroy below the waterline, were more effective than bombs. As Chijiwa focused on the deck below, he saw the crew loading the new oxygen torpedoes. These torpedoes had a much longer range than conventional torpedoes and could attack fleets anchored in shallow harbor waters, with much greater explosive power. One hit could sink a cruiser, and three hits could bring down a carrier or battleship. It was an incredibly powerful weapon.

The massive oxygen torpedoes, each six or seven meters long, were being suspended under the bellies of the torpedo bombers. The ground crews, knowing this was the critical moment, were working at an incredible pace, completing tasks in an hour that normally would have taken two.

But then──.

“…………?”

As he looked down at the deck of the Unkaku, Chijiwa tilted his head in confusion.

The ground crew had suddenly began removing the oxygen torpedoes they had been so diligently attaching.

Instead, they started bringing conventional bombs onto the deck. The crew began replacing the torpedoes with bombs.

“What are they doing……!”

Involuntarily, Chijiwa scolded them from above. Glancing over at the other carriers, he saw the same thing happening. The enemy fleet detection must have been a false report. The Yagami Fleet Commander had decided to launch a second attack on La Vista Airfield and suddenly ordered the rearmament. With the two mission objectives being the destruction of the enemy mobile fleet and the capture of Scion Island, this kind of confusion was inevitable.

This was the sort of idiocy Chijiwa had encountered numerous times from senior officers.

It was likely they feared wasting the oxygen torpedoes. Unlike cheap conventional bombs, oxygen torpedoes were so expensive that each one was carefully managed with a serial number. If the fleet didn’t find the enemy mobile fleet and had to return, the torpedoes would all have to be jettisoned into the sea since landing with them was impossible. The thought of dumping over a hundred expensive oxygen torpedoes terrified Rear Admiral Yagami.

Amatsukami was a poor nation. Its gross national product was less than one-tenth of Levamme’s, and the country constantly suffered from a shortage of supplies, making wartime logistics exceedingly difficult. Each torpedo was made with the blood, sweat, and tears of the empire’s citizens. Poor female factory workers from rural areas, under harsh labour conditions, worked for meagre wages to produce these torpedoes. Understandably, Yagami was reluctant to throw away a hundred such precious and costly weapons into the sea.

But.

──That’s the thinking of farmers!

To Rear Admiral Yagami, discarding a hundred oxygen torpedoes felt "wasteful." He also feared being held accountable later for the decision to dump them.

But this was a decisive battle, with the fate of the nation hanging in the balance. Everything the empire had endured was to secure victory on this day. To withhold crucial resources out of fear of waste or future retribution would be utterly absurd.

──Please, don’t come.

Glaring at the distant sky, Chijiwa prayed that the enemy wouldn’t come.

If they were attacked now, the six regular carriers would be utterly destroyed. Their decks were laden with both torpedoes and bombs. A single hit could trigger a chain reaction, turning these prized carriers into wreckage in the Western Sea. Moreover, the highly trained and skilled pilots, who had taken vast sums of money and time to develop, would die without even taking to the skies. If Amatsukami lost six regular carriers and its elite pilots, it would stand no chance of victory.

And, of course, a skilled enemy always appears when you hope they won’t.

──To the west.

“…………!!”

At a distance of roughly 20,000 meters, there was a faint glimmer of light.

He tilted his wings, signalling his allies. Sugino and Matsuda immediately noticed and signalled the 14-plane formation of the incoming enemy.

At the front of the formation, Hasami was looking around, still unable to spot the enemy. It wasn’t because Hasami was incompetent—rather, Chijiwa’s eyesight was extraordinary, able to detect enemy aircraft 20,000 meters away. Chijiwa moved in front of Hasami and signalled with hand gestures.

“I’ll lead. Follow me.”

Hasami begrudgingly nodded, and Chijiwa flipped his wings.

He sped directly westward. The other carrier’s escort units had not yet noticed the incoming attack. Only the Unkaku’s escort unit left the airspace above its carrier to intercept.

Maintaining an altitude of 6,000 meters, hidden within the clouds, Chijiwa crept toward the enemy.

Through the windshield, the shapes of the enemy aircraft gradually became clearer. They hadn’t noticed yet, flying in a straight line toward the Imperial fleet at an altitude of 1,000 meters.

Chijiwa steeled himself. Leading the charge was a squadron of around 30 Aires II fighters, followed by approximately 60 Levamme San Libera torpedo bombers. First, they needed to take down the entire Aires II squadron.

Chijiwa’s gaze sharpened with a chilling focus. Cold energy surged from his core.

It’s the inexperienced ones who get excited before a battle. True warriors grow ever colder.

He switched the firing mechanism from 30mm to the 13mm machine guns mounted on his control stick.

Even as they closed to within 5,000 meters, the enemy fighters had yet to notice them. Chijiwa pushed the control stick forward, diving down on the enemy fighter formation from above.

With minimal bursts, almost invisible, his first shot shattered the enemy cockpit. Sugino and Matsuda, flanking him, similarly dispatched their targets with a single 13mm shot.

Blood mixed with shards of shattered glass. Chijiwa’s flight unit broke through the enemy formation in an instant. Pulling up at 300 meters, they maintained their formation, pursuing the Aires II squadron.

At the same time, Hasami’s squadron of 11 planes descended like hornets, tearing into the Aires II fighters.

Fireballs ripped through the blue sky. Shards of metal burst apart as wings broke off, spinning away in the wrong direction.

A spiderweb of smoke and debris spread across the sky. Chijiwa plunged into the middle of the chaos, weaving through the scattering grey and brown clouds of destruction.

The roar of propellers filled the combat zone.

In a matter of moments, the autumn sky belonged to the Shinden squadron.

The entire Aires II squadron had been reduced to ripples on the sea.

Chijiwa cast a brief glance of pity toward the remaining Levamme torpedo bombers.

At this point, there was nothing they could do. Burdened with heavy torpedoes, torpedo bombers were no match for nimble fighters once targeted.

The fourteen planes of the Unkaku’s escort unit pounced on the sixty San Libera torpedo bombers. Soon after, the other carrier escort units, belatedly noticing the attack, rushed in to join the fray, bringing their seventy planes with them.

It was a massacre in the sky.

The carrier air squadrons from the six carriers competed with each other to claim kills, showering the San Libera bombers with machine gun fire. The pitiful torpedo bombers, showing no intention of fleeing, flew straight toward the Imperial carriers, as if determined to complete their mission, even while being hunted by the fighters. Their bravery was impressive. Just as the samurai spirit lived in Amatsukami, the Levamme pilots surely had their own knightly pride. Though they were the enemy, their courage was admirable. But the Shinden squadrons showed no mercy, relentlessly attacking from all angles and steadily racking up kills.

Chijiwa, too, joined in the hunt.

Without a drop of sweat on his palms, without any sign of bloodlust in his eyes, he methodically dispatched the enemy planes, like sweeping dust off a floor. It was clear this battle was a decisive victory for the Imperial carrier escort units.

But then──.

“…………?”

A cold, needle-like sensation pierced through Chijiwa’s mind.

Something beyond logic whispered into Chijiwa’s consciousness.

──This is a trap.

It was that strange voice he had heard occasionally since the age of fourteen, when he had worked in the undersea coal mines. His superior officers, including Hasami, referred to it as "Chijiwa's intuition."

But this wasn’t intuition.

He could actually hear a whisper.

The "voice" was pointing toward a large stratocumulus cloud at an altitude of 3,500 meters.

──Something is coming.

Chijiwa looked up in that direction. He saw no enemy aircraft, as the clouds obscured his view. The clouds weren’t thick, though, and there were gaps here and there where blue sky was visible.

Directly beneath that cloud mass were the ships of the first and second squadrons, including the six carriers. They were positioned close together, making it easier for the escort fighters to protect them.

But right now, all the escort units had left the airspace they were supposed to protect, chasing down the torpedo bombers. Compared to land-based squadrons, carrier-based air units had fewer opportunities for dogfights, and now, eager to prove their skills from over 1,000 hours of training, they were recklessly competing with one another like bullfighters, chasing after the torpedo bombers.

──No one is watching over the carriers.

A sense of foreboding brushed the back of his neck. He squinted his eyes at the stratocumulus cloud drifting over the carriers.

He saw nothing.

But despite that──.

──The torpedo bombers are just a decoy.

Something whispered it to him.

──The voice of the sky.

Chijiwa privately called it the "voice of the sky."

It was a guidance only he could hear, coming from the heavens.

──There’s no mistake.

It was by listening to and trusting this voice that Chijiwa had earned the title of ace pilot.

At that moment of certainty, Chijiwa jerked the control stick, executing a sharp turn and rapidly climbing. It was an abrupt departure from the battle. Sugino and Matsuda hurried to follow him.

Chijiwa gritted his teeth and opened the throttle, rushing past Hasami, who was still absorbed in the hunt.

──Notice, Hasami.

Waving his wings in a signal, Chijiwa pointed through his cockpit canopy toward the cloud at 3,500 meters, then sped directly toward it.

──Please. Bring the others and follow me.

The only person who could issue orders to the 14-plane formation through the intercom was the squadron leader, Hasami. As a demoted flight leader, Chijiwa could only receive commands. It frustrated him, but all he could do was fly toward the invisible enemy with all his might. Only Sugino and Matsuda followed. Behind them, Hasami watched Chijiwa’s manoeuvre with a puzzled look.

──Trust me, Hasami.

Leaving his prayers behind, Chijiwa charged straight toward the cloud.

Hasami watched Chijiwa’s departure with an exasperated look.

He was terrible at flying in formation. The role of the escort unit was to shoot down every last torpedo bomber, yet here was Chijiwa, rushing headlong toward an empty cloud.

Hasami squinted at the cloud Chijiwa was heading toward but saw no sign of the enemy. Why would Chijiwa abandon the enemy planes and fly toward that cloud?

──An ace pilot’s intuition.

That was probably what had hit him.

Chijiwa could sense things others couldn’t and spot hidden enemies through the clouds. That’s why Chijiwa was an ace pilot. As much as Hasami hated to admit it, he couldn’t deny Chijiwa’s aerial combat skills.

He was an insufferable man.

Arrogant, spiteful, constantly mocking his superiors, and utterly dismissive of military regulations. Most infuriatingly, he had flown with Mizumori Misora and made her cry, yet acted as if nothing had happened. Hasami had lost count of how many times he had cursed having such a man as a colleague.

But while he was insufferable and Hasami often wanted to strangle him, there was no one more dependable on the battlefield.

And now, that man was turning his back on the hunt to rush toward an empty cloud.

He wouldn’t do something like this without reason. There had to be a purpose.

──On the ground, Chijiwa is the worst.

──But in the sky, he’s trustworthy.

No one understood that better than Hasami. Since the beginning of the war, he had flown in the same squadron as Chijiwa, sharing the same responsibilities as a squadron leader.

──If Chijiwa is heading there, the enemy is there.

Even without evidence, Hasami felt sure of it.

He gritted his teeth and grabbed the receiver that connected to the rest of the 14-plane formation.

Perhaps after this battle, he would be severely reprimanded for a critical error in squadron command. If there turned out to be nothing up ahead, his superiors, peers, and subordinates would all regard him as a fool.

He would be held accountable. His abilities would be questioned. He might even be demoted. It could hurt his career.

But.

“All units, reverse course!”

Hasami ordered the entire Unkaku escort squadron of 14 planes.

“Forget the torpedo bombers! Follow Chijiwa!!”

He shouted, then banked his plane into a sharp turn.

The remaining ten planes of the Unkaku escort squadron, having received the order, abandoned the torpedo bombers and followed Hasami.

As they sped away from the hunt, the other carriers' escort units remained obsessed with the torpedo bombers. Only the 14 planes of the Unkaku escort unit flew at full speed toward the airspace above the first and second squadrons.

Hasami glared at the black dot that was Chijiwa’s plane in the distance, his eyes bloodshot.

──This is your fault, Chijiwa.

──If there’s nothing there, you’ll be cutting your belly open with me.

Grumbling internally, Hasami led the Unkaku escort unit as they sliced through the sky in an upward climb.

Driven purely by instinct, Chijiwa plunged into the layer of clouds.

The windshield misted white. The wingtips vanished from sight, and only the faint outline of the Shinden’s sharp nose cutting through the vapor remained visible.

He emerged from the clouds.

At 6,500 meters altitude, the expanse of blue sky greeted him, unmarred by even a single high-altitude cloud.

But something split through that pure blue.

“As I thought…!!”

To the south-southeast, at 5,500 meters altitude, and approximately 13,000 meters away, the enemy appeared.

"Here come the dive bombers!"

Sixty Levamme Los Angeles dive bombers descended upon the empty airspace at the worst possible time.

The goddess of battle seemed to be favouring the Imperial Army this time.

“Damn it.”

He spat the words out. As he suspected, the torpedo bombers had been a decoy. The real assault came with the dive bombers, striking with a time delay between the torpedo and dive bomber waves, pulling the Imperial escort fighters away.

At this moment, only three fighters—Chijiwa, Sugino, and Matsuda—were defending the airspace. These three Shinden fighters were the last line of defence, tasked with protecting the six carriers of the First and Second Fleets from the assault of sixty dive bombers. To make matters worse, the carrier decks were laden with bombs and oxygen torpedoes. One hit, and any of these precious carriers would be lost in a fiery explosion, taking with them over 300 elite airmen, not in the skies, but beneath the waves.

“This is it.”

Muttering to himself, Chijiwa glanced at his wingmen.

──This isn’t just about winning or losing this sea battle.

Sugino and Matsuda met his gaze with the same fierce determination.

──The future of Amatsukami depends on us.

No words were exchanged, but their understanding was clear.

──Everything rests on these three.

Whether the Los Angeles squadron succeeded in their dive-bombing run, or whether Chijiwa’s trio could stop them, the outcome of this brief engagement would determine the course of the empire’s 3,000-year history.

With a hand signal, Chijiwa ordered the squadron to disperse. The formation broke, each fighter moving into position.

──If the goddess of battle is fickle…

Ahead, the sixty dive bombers accelerated. They had spotted the Imperial fleet through the gap in the clouds, and the excitement of the bomber pilots radiated from their approaching shapes.

──Force her hand.

The three Shinden fighters surged forward, aiming for the sixty black dots. Their goal was to strike before the enemy could begin their dives, attacking repeatedly if necessary.

The shapes grew larger through the cockpit’s canopy.

The enemy formation was four columns deep, already prepared to transition into their dive bombing runs.

There were four entry points, but only three of them. Not enough.

To protect the carriers, it wasn’t about shooting them down.

──Disrupt their attack runs.

A skilled dive bomber would enter at a 60-degree dive, adjusting the targeting sights during descent and releasing their bombs at around 400 meters. Less experienced pilots, however, might enter at a shallower angle, miscalculate during the descent, and release their bombs too early out of fear of crashing into the sea at 600 to 800 meters. If they could disrupt the approach at the start, the accuracy of the bombers would be significantly reduced.

Chijiwa and his wingmen held a height advantage of about 1,000 meters. Their goal was to disrupt the precision of the four-column formation.

Diving from 6,500 meters, Chijiwa’s Shinden targeted the lead bombers.

Just as four planes were about to enter their dives, his machine gun fire rained down from above, scattering the formation. One plane spun out of control, spiralling into the ocean below. Sugino and Matsuda followed suit, firing their 13mm rounds from above. Two more enemy planes were hit and wobbled away, abandoning the battle.

The remaining bombers hesitated. A dive-bombing squadron’s success hinged on the leading pilot, with the rest of the formation following that lead. With the front disrupted, the rest of the squadron faltered.

The orderly four-column formation disintegrated, leaving each bomber to decide for themselves when to begin their dives. Skilled pilots might still succeed, but for the inexperienced, the chances of hitting their target plummeted.

Chijiwa now fired from below, aiming at the bombers’ underbellies, preventing them from starting their dive. Sugino and Matsuda similarly locked onto dangerous enemy planes, forcing them off course with machine gun fire aimed at their noses.

The rear gunners on the Los Angeles bombers retaliated. They angled their planes and rained 14mm machine gun fire on the Shinden fighters coming up from below. The sky was soon filled with crimson tracer rounds and choking gun smoke.

Chijiwa weaved through the fiery rain, his eyes straining through the smoke to spot bombers plunging toward the sea. He sped after them, spraying bullets across their flight paths to force them to change course, then searched for his next target.

The sea came into view below. Their dogfights had dropped their altitude to 3,700 meters. Columns of water erupted around the fleet, obscuring it with mist. Several enemy planes had managed to release their bombs. The fleet’s circular formation had scattered, each ship frantically evading the falling bombs. Fortunately, none had yet taken a direct hit. Thanks to Chijiwa’s squad, the bombing runs had been thrown into disarray, and the fleet crews were doing their best to avoid the attacks. The more the trio forced the bombers off course, the lower the chances of a direct hit.

──The carriers were like rabbits, the Los Angeles bombers like hawks, and the Shinden like hunters.

As the hawks swooped down on the helpless rabbits, the hunters fired shots to scare the hawks away, allowing the rabbits to flee. The hunters didn’t need to kill the hawks—this was the role of the three Shinden fighters in this battle. Chijiwa coolly assessed his role in the engagement.

──But there are too many hawks.

More than 50 dive bombers still remained, waiting to unleash a deadly and coordinated dive attack.

"Dammit!"

Chijiwa cursed, opening the throttle. He needed to disrupt their attacks, even if it meant firing at long range. Ignoring the machine gun fire from below, he weaved through the tracers, riddled his plane with holes, but kept on preventing the dives.

His plane’s energy consumption was critical. The strain on the pilots was immense. Sugino, hit by enemy fire, was trailing white smoke, yet still pursued the enemy. He fought with reckless abandon, desperate to protect the fleet.

Sugino, usually cheerful and carefree on the ground, fought like a demon in the sky. Matsuda, too, fiercely defended his sector. There was no way Chijiwa could give up now. Ignoring his remaining energy reserves, he kept firing to disrupt the enemy bombers.

The enemy soon realized there were only three Imperial fighters. Likely receiving orders from their squad leader, the Los Angeles bombers began regrouping.

Chijiwa glared through his cockpit at the formation above him.

The enemy bombers reassembled at 5,300 meters, dividing into three groups.

That formation…

“...A fan-shaped formation...!”

Ten bombers spread out in a fan formation, preparing for a coordinated dive.

Three groups of ten. With a squad leader at the centre of each group, all thirty planes were ready to dive simultaneously. There was no way for the three Shinden fighters to counter all of them at once. Even if they forced two-thirds to abort their dives, ten bombers would still release their payloads, and one direct hit would be enough to sink a carrier. Five or six hits would decide the outcome of the battle.

“Damn it…!!”

For the first time, despair flickered across Chijiwa’s mind. He had underestimated this enemy.

The closer the fighting came to their homeland, the more desperate the Levamme forces became, and the more formidable their counterattacks. These weren’t the weak, timid Levamme forces of earlier battles. These were foes willing to sacrifice everything to bring down the Imperial fleet.

Impressed as he was, Chijiwa had no time for admiration. He pulled the nose of his plane up and ascended toward the fan-shaped formation. Sugino and Matsuda also targeted their respective groups, preparing to attack.

The three fan-shaped formations surged forward—the rumble of propellers filling the sky—as they began their coordinated dive.

It was a precise, flawless manoeuvre. Like an avalanche, the thirty Los Angeles bombers descended in unison, aiming for the Imperial carriers below.

From his vantage point, Chijiwa saw the fan-shaped formation descending like a wave.

Through his windshield, he saw the ten enemy bombers spread out before him. Even if he fired head-on with his machine guns, he could only hope to take down one or two.

“Damn…!”

Chijiwa halted his climb and banked right, firing his 30mm machine gun rounds into the formation. He prayed that at least one of the bombers would break formation, but only two exploded, while the remaining eight continued their dive toward the carriers.

Grinding his teeth so hard they might shatter, Chijiwa aimed his nose at the retreating Los Angeles bombers.

The Shinden fighter was nimble, but chasing the bombers at such a steep angle could tear the plane apart. Chijiwa’s skill allowed him to push his plane to the brink of structural failure, but against real dive bombers, there was only so much he could do.

There was no stopping them. All he could do was hope and pray that as few bombs as possible found their mark.

──I’m sorry.

As he silently apologized to the crews below, something extraordinary happened.

A Shinden squadron sliced through the middle of the descending fan formation.

The enemy bombers, along with their 500kg bombs, disintegrated in an explosion, sending brown-grey clouds of debris into the sky.

“…!!”

A chain of explosions followed, shredding the dive formation. The remaining bombers, now in disarray, were immediately attacked by the pursuing Imperial fighters.

Looking around, Chijiwa saw that the other two fan formations were also being attacked by multiple Shinden fighters, disrupting their formations. Below, the six Imperial carriers were scattering to evade the remaining bombs. No direct hits had been scored.

The first Shinden squadron, which had shredded the initial fan formation, now pounced on the retreating bombers. The Los Angeles bombers, inferior in speed and manoeuvrability, fled in a straight line. However, the Imperial fighter chasing them struggled to hit its target, its bullets spraying in random directions, missing the mark entirely. Chijiwa couldn’t help but shake his head in disbelief at such terrible aim.

There was only one pilot in the Unkaku air squadron who was that bad.

“Hasami…”

Chijiwa let out a sigh of relief.

Hasami’s piloting skills were atrocious, but his leadership was decent. He was more reliable than the other squadron leaders, who had been tricked by the enemy’s torpedo bombers. While Hasami’s combat abilities were hopeless, he had the tactical foresight and calm demeanour to make the right decisions in the heat of battle.

──You have a skill I don’t.

──I feel at ease fighting under your command.

Chijiwa quickly shot down the retreating Los Angeles bomber in front of him, without even glancing at the falling wreckage, and maneuverer his plane to fly alongside Hasami’s.

From the cockpit, Hasami glared at him with his usual expressionless face, as if to say, “Stop stealing my kills.”

Chijiwa opened the canopy and yelled at his squadron leader.

“You’re late, you idiot!”

Hasami’s face twisted in frustration, even though he couldn’t hear a word. Chijiwa, smirking at his comrade’s misery, pulled away to hunt down his next target. Though he trusted Hasami, something about his overly serious face always made him want to mess with him. It was a bad habit, but one he had no intention of fixing. There was no way he’d start thanking Hasami sincerely, tears in his eyes.

With Hasami covering him, Chijiwa was now free to hunt to his heart’s content. The remaining Los Angeles bombers, having given up on their bombing runs, jettisoned their payloads into the empty sea and fled.

By the time the other escort fighters, distracted by the decoys, returned, all the Los Angeles bombers had withdrawn. Not a single bomb or torpedo had hit the carriers.

The second wave of attackers took off, successfully bombarding the Sion Island airfield and rendering it inoperable.

At the same time, Imperial scouts spotted the enemy fleet, and the third wave of attackers was launched. This time, the torpedo bombers carried their oxygen torpedoes into the twilight sky.

The Unkaku escort squadron landed to refuel and rearm, then climbed back to 6,700 meters, waiting for the enemy. When the enemy once again attempted a staggered attack with torpedo and dive bombers, the Imperial forces were ready. The air squadrons had split into two groups, ensuring that one always remained directly over the fleet, while the other engaged the enemy. As a result, the Levamme forces were unable to inflict significant damage on the Imperial fleet.

──Show yourself, Seagull.

Throughout the battle, while cutting down enemy planes, Chijiwa silently prayed for his rival to appear. But though they faced some formidable opponents, his comrades quickly dispatched them, and the legendary Seagull fighter never appeared.

The Outcome of the Battle of Victoria Sea:

Imperial Amatsukami Navy losses:

   2 light cruisers sunk, 2 destroyers sunk
   1 heavy cruiser severely damaged, 1 battleship lightly damaged, 3 destroyers lightly damaged

Holy Levamme Empire Navy losses:

   3 fleet carriers sunk, 1 heavy cruiser sunk
   1 fleet carrier severely damaged, 2 escort carriers severely damaged
   2 battleships lightly damaged, 4 light cruisers lightly damaged, 1 destroyer lightly damaged

The world's first carrier-versus-carrier battle ended in a decisive victory for the Imperial Amatsukami forces.

After the enemy fleet was destroyed, the super dreadnought air battleships Hida and Setsu unleashed devastating bombardments on Sion Island from 50-centimeter cannons, obliterating nearly all enemy ground installations except for the airfield. When the Imperial ground forces landed, they met little resistance and merely accepted the surrender of Levamme soldiers.

Two days after the battle, the Imperial flag was raised over Sion Island. Over 10,000 Levamme soldiers, lacking the will to fight, were taken prisoner. The Levamme forces retreated to the Cantabria Islands, 300 kilometres west of Sion.

In later years, military historians would attribute the Imperial victory in the Battle of Victoria Sea to Hasami Shinichi’s decision to reverse course and pursue the real threat. Though Chijiwa had identified the decoy, without Hasami’s command, the Imperial fleet would have been sunk by the Los Angeles dive bombers, and the second phase of the campaign would have ended in failure. The Battle of Victoria Sea would forever stand as an example of how one leader’s decision could change the course of a war.

The day after the occupation of Sion Island, Chijiwa and his comrades were reassigned once again from the Unkaku air squadron back to the Otonashi air squadron. Their new orders placed them at a newly established base on Sion Island. With the war nearing its first anniversary, constant relocations had become a routine, and Chijiwa harboured no particular feelings of excitement or dissatisfaction toward his next assignment.

That afternoon, the small boat carrying the Otonashi air squadron left the Unkaku and sailed into the harbor of Sion Island. Chijiwa would have preferred to fly his aircraft, but logistical reasons delayed the transfer of planes until a later date. As they approached, the remnants of the battle still lingered: a destroyer lay split in half with its stern jutting skyward, while a scorched freighter tilted into the water.

In the harbor, Imperial Navy warships were already docked. Some of the pilots were excited at the sight of the super dreadnought battleships Hida and Setsu, massive and imposing like mountain ranges. For many of the younger pilots, it was their first time seeing these behemoths, which had been kept in reserve until now. The battleships’ silhouettes reminded Chijiwa of Battleship Island, and despite the animosity he once felt toward that place, a sense of nostalgia stirred within him.

The small boat docked at the pier, and Chijiwa and the others disembarked. Setting foot on the frontlines of the island, they climbed into the back of trucks that would take them to the airfield.

As the truck bounced along the rough, red dirt roads, Chijiwa observed the island. Imperial military vehicles moved briskly through the streets, soldiers directing traffic with signal flags. Amphibious landing craft unloaded trucks and armoured vehicles, which headed toward the shore to set up camp for the ground forces. For an island that had only been occupied the day before, everything was remarkably organized—likely due to careful pre-war planning. The excitement of being on the frontlines, edging ever closer to Levamme’s mainland, was palpable.

The island still bore the scars of the recent battle, with plumes of smoke rising here and there. The terrain was mostly flat, but patches of deep forest and red-brown hills lay beyond the greenery. Despite it being early December, the weather wasn’t cold. The air was thick with the smell of sulphur, and upon closer inspection, Chijiwa noticed smoke rising from the mountains—Sion Island was said to have hot springs. Sugino excitedly remarked about this, likely thrilled at the prospect of a bath, something rare for lower-ranked soldiers on aircraft carriers. Matsuda, too, was in a tourist-like mood, taking in the island’s scenery for the first time. Meanwhile, Hasami remained silent and grumpy, still seemingly holding a grudge against Chijiwa for stealing his kill during the recent naval battle.

After about twenty minutes of driving through a dense grove of palm trees, the path opened up, and the airfield came into view.

It was the former La Vista Airfield.

Three runways stretched out in the distance: one for fighter aircraft, one for carrier bombers and torpedo bombers, and one for large bombers. The existing facilities, including barracks, hangars, shelters, air defence bunkers, and the command post, would all be repurposed by the Imperial forces.

The newly established base was named “Sechibaru,” after the war god from Amatsukami mythology. From this point on, Chijiwa and the Otonashi air squadron would make Sechibaru their headquarters, launching from this forward base to engage in the battles ahead.

The runways were still pockmarked with bomb craters, and wreckage from downed enemy planes was strewn across the field. Heavy equipment was clearing the debris, but it would take a few days before the runways were operational. This was why they hadn’t flown in directly.

In front of the air command post, elite pilots from various carrier air squadrons had gathered. Among them were some of the most skilled pilots in the empire, including several whom Chijiwa recognized. Rumour had it that in the coming days, even more experienced pilots would be selected from other air bases and assigned to the Otonashi air squadron. This elite unit would become one of the most formidable air forces in Amatsukami.

The new base commander of Sechibaru was Rear Admiral Shirase Kazuki, whose success in the Battle of Mitobaru had earned him the post. Respected by all, especially the junior officers who affectionately called him “Father,” Shirase gave a brief but stern speech, reminding them of the harsh battles to come.

After the speech, they moved to the barracks. The building was a sturdy two-story concrete structure, originally used by the Levamme forces. Although Chijiwa’s rank entitled him to stay in the officers' quarters, he preferred to stay with the non-commissioned officers in the barracks. The officers didn’t seem to mind his absence, as many of them weren’t particularly fond of him anyway.

The large ground-floor room was lined with simple beds and shelves. The shelves still held various items left behind by the Levamme soldiers, such as magazines and other small personal effects—prizes of war.

With no strict bed assignments, the non-commissioned officers each claimed an empty bed and sprawled out. Some flipped through the Levamme magazines with curiosity.

"Whoa, is this...!?"

Sugino, who had been rummaging through a bookshelf near Chijiwa, suddenly let out a shocked cry. Chijiwa glanced over to see Sugino holding a Levamme adult magazine. With his eyes bulging and nostrils flaring, Sugino was quickly surrounded by a crowd of men, their cheers rising at the sight of the provocative images that were strictly forbidden in Amatsukami.

"Wow, the Levamme really are something!"

Sugino, his voice cracking, spread the magazine open to show Matsuda.

"Stop, Sugino, that's indecent...!"

Ever the innocent one, Matsuda closed his eyes tightly and shook his head in disapproval. But Sugino, determined to share his "discovery" with his friend, persistently waved the various pages in front of him.

"Stop it, please, no..."

Although Matsuda could remain calm in the heat of aerial combat, he was helpless in this situation, his face flushed as he tightly shut his eyes and whimpered weak protests. Chijiwa ignored the magazine frenzy, wandering over to the shelves and sifting through the spoils of war until he found several records, which he quickly confiscated.

"Hmm."

He then ascended to the second floor, where he continued to search through piles of abandoned items. Finally, he uncovered a phonograph, a gleaming new model with a shiny horn attached—something that would be nearly impossible to obtain back in Amatsukami. Without changing his expression, he carefully cradled it in his arms and brought it down to his bed. He placed a random record on the turntable and set the needle.

“Oh?”

The music that emerged was clearer than anything he had ever heard. The notes of a piano, violin, and upright bass filled the barracks. The other pilots, who had been engrossed in their magazine, all turned toward the phonograph in unison.

“What’s that? Is it Levamme music? I’ve never heard anything like it.”

The room was full of unfamiliar faces, but the soothing melody soon brought everyone together. After spending so long in the chaos of war, the gentle music provided a much-needed balm for their weary souls. No one cared about the fact that it was "enemy" music; they simply sat or lay on their beds, listening intently until the record ended.

“Lieutenant, can you play Mizumori Mikura next?”

When the record finished, Sugino, still clutching the adult magazine, made the request. Since meeting her in person during her visit, Sugino had become a fan of Mizumori Mikura. Chijiwa, who also secretly wanted to hear her voice on the new phonograph, pretended to be reluctant as he pulled the record from his luggage.

The record was from before the war, back when Mizumori still sang Levamme songs. As her clear voice echoed through the room, it washed away the heavy tension of the frontline.

“Ahh…”

Her voice was like rain falling on the desert. The pilots’ collective sighs blended with the melody. It was only then, as they immersed themselves in the gentle music, that they remembered they were human beings.

If I could fly, I’d soar to the sea where you are.

I’d ask the seagulls for your whereabouts, flying over countless clouds.

And if I found your ship, I’d rest quietly in the shadow of its sails.

I’d only watch your back, for I know I’d get no reply.

All you see is the horizon and the endless sky.

So, I’ll send my prayers to you instead.

I love you.

I love you.

“What a beautiful voice…”

The pilots were all lost in the same quiet reverie.

The setting sun streamed through the windows, casting golden beams of light that floated with dust motes. The cold, grey barracks were momentarily bathed in a soft golden hue, and Mizumori’s voice swam through that glow, cleansing the space.

Though it was a song in Levamme, it stirred a deep sense of nostalgia. Some of the men even had tears welling in their eyes. Despite the differences in nationality, language, and physical appearance, the emotions behind the song were the same. The fragile, tender melody reminded them of the loved ones they had left behind. Sniffling could be heard between the verses.

The song reached deep into Chijiwa’s own heart as well.

Apologizing for the pain he had caused, he silently prayed that Yuki would find happiness back home. For Chijiwa, the thought of Yuki continuing to sing her kind, gentle songs was his happiness.

That night, long after lights-out, the non-commissioned officers of the Otonashi air squadron continued listening to the same record. Even after the lights were turned off, many still wanted to hear more. In the end, Chijiwa let the phonograph play, lying on his bed in his flight suit.

Staring up at the dark ceiling, Chijiwa’s mind was once again consumed by the image that had haunted him for over three months—the Seagull’s salute. Even when he closed his eyes, the image painted itself onto the back of his eyelids. No matter how much time passed, he couldn’t escape that memory.

Before he realized it, all he thought about was shooting down the Seagull.

──I can’t find interest in anything on the ground.

He was aware of it. The more he flew, the more he drifted away from life on the ground.

The sky was changing him. All he wanted was to think about the sky. The more hours he spent in the air, the more he could hear the voice—the voice that grew clearer with time.

──The voice of the sky.

He had heard it during the Battle of Victoria Sea. It was that whisper that had guided him to victory in the naval battle.

──If I could hear the “voice of the sky” more clearly.

──If that happened, surely…

──I could defeat the Seagull.

He believed it.

And perhaps the Seagull was hearing the voice too.

The movements his opponent had shown in their previous battle were beyond human—almost as if he could predict every move Chijiwa would make, evading his bullets with supernatural skill.

──The sky speaks to the Seagull just as it speaks to me.

Chijiwa was certain. Because…

──The sky loves the Seagull.

That was the reason.

The moment he realized that, unbearable jealousy ignited within him.

──It’s not you the sky has chosen.

──It’s me.

──I’ll shoot you down and prove it.

It was such a childish, ridiculous pride. But even knowing it was absurd, he couldn’t let it go.

──The next time we meet, let’s wager our lives.

──The loser dies, and the winner lives.

──That’s the kind of straightforward battle I want.

──I’m sure you feel the same, knight of Levamme.

The next time they encountered each other, Chijiwa was certain the Seagull would agree to a duel. And this time, he would face Chijiwa in a single-seat fighter, not a reconnaissance plane. This time, they would decide, once and for all, who the true ruler of the skies was.

──Let’s see which one of us is the true king of the sky.

Unable to sleep, Chijiwa eagerly awaited his showdown with the Seagull. His mind replayed the aerial manoeuvres of the Seagull, visualizing the movements as he mentally tracked its path with an invisible control stick. He continued devising strategies to close in, gain the upper hand, and get within the range of a guaranteed shot. Mizumori Mikura's song played softly in the background, flowing past him unnoticed.

At the same time, Hasami lay in his officer's quarters, deep in thought.

Earlier that day, as one of the few officers fluent in Levamme, he had participated in the interrogation of a captured Levamme pilot. From the interrogation, Hasami learned that at Guardia Airbase on Cantabria Island, some of the best Levamme pilots from across the country had gathered to form an elite unit called the Nexus Air Squadron. In addition, they were being supplied with a large number of newly developed aircraft, fuelling their determination to challenge the Otonashi Air Squadron. It seemed inevitable that intense air battles between the two squadrons would be a daily occurrence going forward. After suffering repeated defeats since the war began, the Levamme homeland had become increasingly desperate. To boost morale and mobilize their population, they had ramped up production of airships and aircraft on a massive scale. With Guardia Base just 300 kilometres from Sechibaru Base, air combat opportunities were expected to increase significantly.

What troubled Hasami the most, however, was the recent change in Levamme’s military leadership. General Maxwell, who had been in charge, was replaced after shouldering the blame for the string of defeats. His replacement was General Sesta Nimitz, a seasoned commander who had long been at odds with Maxwell. Unlike the politically adept Maxwell, Nimitz was a straightforward commander known for his competence in warfare.

Nimitz’s choice for the navy’s fleet commander was none other than Admiral Wilhelm Bardot, also known as "Bardot the Beast."

Nicknamed the "Bulldog," Bardot was notorious for his intense hatred of the Amatsukami people. His disdain was so visceral that he openly referred to the Amatsukami as monkeys, even going so far as to declare to his officers, "This isn’t war; your job is to hunt monkeys. Kill every monkey you see—leave none alive. Take joy in exterminating every last one." Bardot’s crude and violent rhetoric had made him unpopular with Maxwell, who had kept him relegated to support roles until now. However, Nimitz had no hesitation in entrusting Bardot with full control of the navy. Bardot's singular focus was to kill as many enemies as possible, and he took personal pleasure in doing so. Losses on his own side mattered little to him as long as it meant the death of more Amatsukami soldiers. While Bardot's outlook was reprehensible from a human perspective, it was, in a military sense, ruthlessly effective. His aggressive nationalism and fervour for combat were now driving the Levamme navy, and that troubled Hasami deeply.

──Bardot was reportedly at the bottom of his class in military school.

That fact unnerved Hasami. In the Amatsukami military, officers who graduated with top marks from the academy typically rose to leadership positions. Those with poor academic records were shuffled into lesser roles, never entrusted with critical responsibilities like commanding a fleet. Leadership in the Imperial military was more bureaucratic than military, with officials often treating their roles like civil service jobs. While this system worked for political administration, the military required a different set of skills. In the current Amatsukami system, bureaucratic competence was often valued more than actual military talent.

──Levamme was different.

Though class distinctions still existed, Levamme's military prioritized merit. Bardot had proven himself to be a capable commander in the field, which was why Nimitz had entrusted him with the naval command. Bardot would never have ordered a mid-battle weapon swap out of concern for wasting torpedoes. If it meant killing more of the Amatsukami, Bardot would gladly throw a hundred or even two hundred torpedoes into the sea without hesitation.

Additionally, Hasami had learned of a new development that was even more alarming. Several unfamiliar Levamme aircraft had been discovered on the airfield, partially damaged but recoverable. An investigation of their DC motors revealed that they far outperformed the domestic Sanae motor used in the Shinden. These new enemy aircraft were reported to rival the Shinden in speed, climb rate, and range, while also significantly surpassing it in defensive capabilities.

The difference in motor performance reflected the overall disparity in national power.

The development of motors required accumulated knowledge across multiple fields—mechanical engineering, thermodynamics, metallurgy, electrical engineering, electromagnetism, and advanced metalworking techniques. Even if the design was superior, the motor wouldn’t reach its full potential without the proper materials and manufacturing processes. The Shinden had reigned supreme because its Sanae motor outclassed Levamme’s DC motors, but that advantage was disappearing. With these new, more powerful motors, Levamme’s aircraft would soon be able to surpass the Shinden.

On top of that, Levamme had the industrial capacity to mass-produce these advanced planes. Even if their pilots were only average, sheer numbers would allow them to overwhelm the experienced but outnumbered Amatsukami pilots. A difference in technical skill could be compensated for with numerical superiority.

Guardia Airbase, being close to the Levamme homeland and surrounded by open sea, allowed for quick resupply. In contrast, Sechibaru Airbase, located beyond the Great Waterfall, required airships for resupply, which made transporting large quantities of supplies difficult. The long travel times also complicated matters. According to military science, logistical difficulties increased with the square of the distance, and with the added challenge of the Great Waterfall’s elevation difference, the burden on Sechibaru’s supply lines was exponentially worse.

The longer the conflict with Guardia Air Squadron dragged on, the more the odds would tilt in Levamme’s favour.

──Levamme’s counteroffensive is beginning.

──The war is only now entering its real phase.

Hasami was certain of that. Though his body was exhausted, sleep eluded him as he lay awake, pondering the grim future ahead.

I can feel the intense anticipation building within me. I can’t wait for tomorrow to come. Even in my mid-fifties, it feels like the peak of youth all over again.

“Celebrate the beginning of your command. Soar high,” Wilhelm Bardot, the commander of the Levamme Navy, joyfully proclaimed, unable to conceal his excitement.

The latest state-of-the-art carrier, Gran Ideal, boasting 120 aircraft, roared into action as its lift systems thundered into life.

The sea split apart beneath it, and the towering waves foamed as the massive 260-meter-long ship ascended into the air. The imposing fortress of San Cristobal gradually shrank beneath the horizon as the colossal airborne carrier reached 1,500 meters and settled into its cruise mode. With the vast ocean now under its command, the carrier’s launch celebrated the new regime established by Supreme Commander Nimitz.

Bardot stood alongside his naval advisors, grinning in delight as he enjoyed the first flight of this immense, magnificent vessel.

“What a splendid ship,” he remarked.

Eight new power units hummed smoothly in the belly of the ship, producing 1.75 times the output of the previous model. The completion of these new units allowed airborne vessels to grow even larger, bear heavier armaments, and carry far more aircraft. As a result, more of these monstrous carriers were now being produced. In fact, eight more carriers like the Gran Ideal were currently under construction. It wasn’t just the carriers—cruisers, destroyers, and smaller vessels were also being mass-produced at a scale unimaginable before the war.

A year of repeated defeats had spurred the citizens of Levamme to action. The sense that their nation could fall pushed them to adopt a production system involving both the government and the people. The Levamme Royal Court had finally resolved to spend half of next year’s budget on the military, determined to fully commit to the war. Initially, they had dismissed the conflict, thinking, “This isn’t really a war; it’s just fighting monkeys.” However, after suffering defeats at the hands of those very “monkeys,” including the loss of an arm, they finally acknowledged that these monkeys were formidable. Now, the Levamme Empire was prepared to pour half of its national resources into driving the Amatsukami from the Earth.

A bright smile bloomed across Bardot’s face.

He was thrilled to be leading the charge in what he saw as a "monkey hunt." He felt a deep sense of gratitude that he had the opportunity to exterminate every last one of them from the Earth. The mere thought of those cowardly, hideous creatures daring to call themselves humans made him sick. He needed to teach those shameless monkeys the true greatness of human beings.

“I’d love to start killing monkeys immediately, but we must prepare first,” Bardot said, trying to temper his excitement as he addressed his naval advisors.

“We will torment the monkeys with everything we have. Spread false information, and learn everything there is to know about them—their habits, preferences, gestures, and favourite treats. Once we know everything about them, we’ll devise a large-scale, targeted plan to ensure their extinction. Their suffering will be our joy. Right?”

“Yes, sir,” the advisors replied in unison.

“The monkeys are desperate for a quick, decisive battle, hoping for an early peace. We mustn’t play into their hands. We’ll drag them into a war of attrition, which is what they fear most. Over the next year, we’ll wear them down slowly but surely.”

Bardot gleefully shared his strategy with his advisors. Even Nimitz agreed with this approach, which seemed unexpected for a general known as the “Bulldog,” but Bardot was focused on achieving complete and total victory. He didn’t care how long it took—he would be satisfied as long as no Amatsukami remained on the Earth.

“There will be no grand naval battles. We’ll wage a war of attrition. We’ll strike Sion Island with minor air raids every day and night. That alone will weaken them. As their strength wanes, ours will grow. Only when we’ve amassed a force ten times stronger than theirs will we strike decisively.”

Bardot turned to look out the window, imagining the sky a year from now, filled with the imposing steel-grey of their airborne fleet. Once all their ships were completed, their fleet would dwarf the Imperial forces. The skill, training, and fighting spirit of the enemy wouldn’t matter—they would be crushed by the sheer weight of Levamme’s forces. In modern warfare, industrial power determined victory.

──The monkeys dream of romanticized war.

That was Bardot’s assessment of the Amatsukami military. Their strategy was to arm elite, rigorously trained soldiers with masterfully crafted swords and send them to the front. It was beautiful in a way and no doubt allowed for honourable combat on the battlefield, but frankly, Bardot thought it was absurd.

“There is no romance in war,” Bardot muttered.

Victory came down to one thing: the overwhelming power of steel and machinery.

The side that could send the most steel machines crashing into enemy lines would win. Human skill, training, and spirit couldn’t stand against the tide of steel. Cheap sentiment was worthless in modern warfare. Bardot vowed to teach the Amatsukami this brutal truth, right down to their bones.

However, there was one exception.

──The sky.

In the aerial battlefield, there still lingered a shred of romanticism.

In the air, a single ace pilot could turn the tide of battle, securing air superiority and potentially reversing the course of an entire war. It was like the dream of ancient knights, and in the sky, this kind of fight still existed—though just barely.

After analysing the data from the Victoria Sea battle, Bardot concluded that the "Beagle plane that saw through the decoy and returned above the carrier" had decided the outcome. A single pilot had discerned the enemy’s tactics and saved the six enemy carriers. Such feats were still possible in air combat.

“I need an ace,” Bardot murmured as he gazed up at the vast sky.

“Just as the enemy has their Beagle, we need an ace of our own.”

This was Bardot’s sole concern. Although it seemed like a minor request for a naval commander, Bardot was a man who left no stone unturned.

His advisors already knew of Bardot’s desire for an ace pilot. One of them, Colonel Ramon Task, opened a file he had prepared and handed it to Bardot.

“Hm.”

Bardot glanced through the document and snorted. He recognized the name of the pilot on the report.

“Seagull, huh?”

He muttered the name quietly, turning his dampened expression to Colonel Ramon.

“I’d love to use this man, but he knows too many royal secrets. We can’t risk exposing him.”

“The royal court hasn’t ordered his execution. It’s the military command that’s keeping him under wraps.”

“If we use him, the royal court might get involved. If he lets slip anything about that particular operation to his comrades, it won’t just be a minor issue.”

“I know Seagull’s character well. He isn’t the type to speak carelessly. If we command him to keep quiet, he will. He’s almost absurdly strict about honour.”

“Even so… there’s still a risk the royal court could demand his execution. I’m tired of being jerked around by those court aristocrats.”

“Right now, they might be on edge. But after a year, once it’s clear nothing will come of it, they’ll relax their vigilance.”

“……”

“We’ll keep Seagull out of the spotlight for the next year, give him a new identity, and station him in the rear. He’ll maintain his skills by serving as a training partner for regular pilots. If the court ever asks, we’ll say he’s already dead.”

“Hmm.”

“When the time is right, we’ll unleash Seagull onto the battlefield. He’s the one who shot down the Beagle while flying a reconnaissance plane. If we give him a fighter aircraft, his skills will outshine any opponent.”

“Agreed.”

“The military command doesn’t understand the importance of exceptional pilots. Seagull is the crown jewel of the Levamme Navy. We can’t let such a pilot languish in obscurity. In the wars to come, air superiority will decide the victor, and Seagull is the one who can rule the skies.”

Colonel Ramon spoke with deep conviction. After all, it was he who had devised and executed the Seagull operation. His faith in Seagull was unshakable, and Bardot nodded in agreement.

The accomplishment of Seagull’s single-handed 12,000-kilometer reconnaissance mission over enemy territory was unparalleled.

It wasn’t just a peaceful journey; Seagull had outmanoeuvred enemy forces to deliver the future empress to her destination, all while flying a lone reconnaissance plane.

Bardot took pride in being the only one who truly appreciated the magnitude of this achievement.

This wasn’t something just anyone could do. Only the most elite, rigorously trained warriors could accomplish such a feat. It was a historic achievement worthy of being immortalized in textbooks, yet Seagull had been cast aside by the royal court for the sake of their own reputation.

While the risk of the royal court getting involved remained, Seagull was worth deploying to the battlefield.

Only Seagull could counter a pilot like the Beagle.

“We will release Seagull,” Bardot declared, resolute. They would strip him of his name, erase his past, and give him a new identity. Once the dust settled, they would restore his wings.

“Wait a year.”

Bardot gazed at Seagull’s dossier with affection. To him, his most talented subordinates were more precious than his own children. His hatred for his enemies knew no bounds, but his love for his skilled allies was equally boundless.

"Charles le Chasseur"

Bardot lovingly spoke Seagull’s true name, one that was soon to be discarded.

“You will become the king of the skies.”

END VOLUME 1