Chapter 13

5 “Oh.” When she saw how Rusalka looked, the black-haired woman stopped in her tracks. They were inside the base’s barracks, and Rusalka was on her way to her room. Naturally, she recognized the woman who stopped to look at her—it was Michelle. Rusalka inhaled slowly when she saw the bandage around Michelle’s head and her arm in a sling. “How are your injuries, Michelle?” “I was lucky to escape with just this much. My console’s position in the room is what saved me.” Michelle’s expression was stiff as she responded. It was miraculous that she had managed to survive when so much of the command post had been devastated by the secondary’s attack. More than half the command staff, including General Barkley, had been lost in the strike. She was surely being tormented by the memories of all the people around her who died. If Rusalka had been in the command post at the time, there was no telling if she would have survived. Spelling out her thoughts, Rusalka said, “But I’m not the kind of person to think I was lucky not to be there.” “Of course not. You’re…” Having gotten that far, Michelle’s eyes narrowed. Her expression tensed slightly as she focused on Rusalka’s face. “…Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?” “Uh, no, this is…” “You seem to have just come back from outside. Were you checking the city? Did someone yell at you out there or…?” “…It would be far more bearable if that were all it was.” Michelle averted her eyes, understanding what Rusalka meant. If the civilians whose homes and lives had been destroyed vented their anger and frustration at Rusalka or the other soldiers, then they could accept it and regret the fact that they had not been able to do better. But the boy who had lost his home and the bartender at the pub had not blamed her at all. And neither had the other people in the city or Alejandro. All she had gotten was praise and gratitude. And Rusalka couldn’t handle that. Particularly not from people who were still looking to the future with hope, despite the terrible losses of lives and livelihoods. “This has nothing to do with any civilians,” Rusalka clarified. “But to the best of my knowledge, you crying like that has…” “It’s all Colonel Ostley’s fault,” Rusalka reported concisely, putting a finger to her eye, still feeling the traces of shed tears there. She had no intention of telling anyone else about what he had shared with her or the regrets she had revealed to him while crying her eyes out. It was too embarrassing and pathetic. The only people in the world who knew those things were Alejandro and the man behind the bar. “So you don’t need to worry about… Michelle?” Just as she was about to finish her explanation, she felt something was off about Michelle’s silence. Michelle’s expression stiffened, and she touched the mole at the corner of her eye as she ruminated on what Rusalka had said. “Colonel Ostley made you cry?” “—? Yes. What of it?” “There are several points I would like to ask more about in detail, but I suppose the takeaway is that the mastermind behind the Miracle at Lamia is not the man of character he is reputed to be?” “I’m not sure what impression you got from what I just said, but I don’t think there’s much room for argument that he is an unconventional officer and lacking in common sense.” “…That is true…” Michelle nodded, as if convinced by that explanation. Judging from her reaction, it seemed like Alejandro took the same attitude with everyone, and that conclusion made Rusalka all the more exasperated with how troublesome their commanding officer was. But— “I cried and cried, and now I feel relieved… I haven’t been able to cry for a long time.” “…Does that…?” “Yes.” Rusalka nodded at the barely formed question. And just that was enough for the woman who had known her since the days she had been leading her own flight. She knew whom Rusalka had cried over and to whom she had raised a glass. “And I can confidently say that it was only thanks to his encouragement that I was able to cry, and that I was able to fight.” “…Then what will you do now that you’ve flown again?” “” Still badly wounded and fighting through her own pain, Michelle pressed Rusalka on what she would do going forward. Rusalka thought for a moment. If she had not spoken with Alejandro that night, she probably would not have been able to answer. But— “Will you join the colonel’s Sigrdrifa plan…?” “—I’m going to keep flying.” “Ah…” Rusalka answered confidently, putting her hands on Michelle’s shoulders as she started to lean forward. Their faces were close enough to feel each other breathing. Rusalka looked Michelle straight in the eyes. And as Michelle breathed in, Rusalka continued: “I will be one of the members of Sigrdrifa.” “” She spurred her resolve by saying it explicitly and without hesitation. She had said something terrible, regretted it deeply, and then folded up her wings in shame and guilt. But the sky had been there the whole time, waiting for the moment she would spread her wings once again. “…Finally…” Rusalka was shocked by Michelle’s weak response. It was a hoarse sigh of relief. And it had come from Michelle of all people. Her frozen expression finally melted, softening as she averted her eyes. “You’ve finally returned, Rusalka.” “I guess I really kept you waiting.” “Yes, you did.” Michelle’s lips slipped briefly into a barely visible smile. But it was gone as soon as it came, and she stepped back, putting some distance between her and Rusalka. She turned to walk past and continue down the hallway. As if declaring that they had said enough. “Michelle, just one thing.” “What is it?” Michelle did not turn around. “Could you be my operator again, like before? The situation is different now, and it will no doubt be difficult.” Michelle almost stopped but kept on walking in the end. “That’s quite the shameless request.” “Yes, it is. I’ve decided to try being just a little bolder from now on.” “—I’ll take it under consideration.” With that curt response, Michelle turned the corner and disappeared down the hall. Rusalka watched her go and then breathed a sigh of relief. And— 6 “I see, so you’re the one who ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■.” It was something that had tormented Rusalka over and over and over again. Hiding in the mists of her memory, something that she wanted to avert her eyes from, to wish away. But it resounded in her dreams every night, never letting her forget the sin she had committed. “I see, so you’re the one who ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■.” That solemn voice. That haughty voice. That voice filled with mercy. It repeated those words over and over. And finally, Rusalka remembered what she had felt when she had been told that. That moment was when she stopped averting her eyes. It was when she acknowledged the mistake she had made. And it was because her sin had been forgiven by none other than the girl she had hurt most. “—I see, so you’re the one who hates the hero.” The fog cleared on the words that had tormented Rusalka so many times. Yes, Rusalka had hated the hero. She was surely the only person in the world who had hated that noble and earnest young girl. Even after becoming a Valkyrie herself and flying with the same noble mission that Amy had, that hatred had always dwelled deep in her heart. She had believed that she had done something unforgivable. That there was no pardon possible. But Amy had forgiven her and accepted her. And she had surely had that same carefree smile, that same mischievous glint in her eyes, and that same voice that always ravaged her heart. Because she had so much love hidden away in that small little body. Because she was Rusalka’s best friend. “—I see, so you’re the one who hates the hero.” But still, calling Amy a hero was almost laughable. She had always hated being given such grand titles. There was supposed to be a promotional pamphlet made with her on the cover, in order to spread the word about the things she had done and extol her beauty. But that project was put on ice when she died. Afterward, the person in charge of making it had visited Rusalka. He had come to give her a picture. The picture that was going to be the cover of that illusory magazine. It was a picture of Amy blushing, looking terribly embarrassed. The girl who seemed so special both on the ground and in the air looked like any other girl her age inside the confines of that photograph. The morning after the fog of memory cleared in her dream, Rusalka pulled out the photograph that she had always kept tucked hidden away in her desk. She pinned it on the corkboard hanging on her wall—next to all the reports on the fighting around Europe. She could hear Amy’s miffed voice, saying, At least put me in a nicer place than this! 7 The sun streamed through the window that morning, too. The early broadcast started as the people on the base slowly woke up and greeted the new day. Traces of the battle were still fresh and visible as everyone gathered on the parade grounds in front of the flag. Every soldier stood at attention. And standing in front of them were the beautiful and reliable Valkyries, who bore the hopes of humanity. Natalie Chase looked proud. Alma Conturo seemed emotionless as always. Shannon Stewart appeared sleepy more than anything. The maintenance and support crews were gathered in separate lines. Among them were Chief Technician Roger Reever, the mainstay who made it possible for the base to have such an extraordinarily high operational readiness rate, and Major Michelle Heyman, her arm still in a sling as she stood with a group of operators who looked nervous. A man walked forward, looking entirely at ease despite facing the full assembly of Hamburg base. Blond-haired, blue-eyed, and tall, he sported a scraggly mustache, still unshaven—this was the new commanding officer of the base. The commanding officer charged with overseeing the European army’s front lines, Lieutenant Colonel Alejandro Ostley. “Thank you all for gathering so early. The only reason we made it through the other day was thanks to all your valiant efforts. We lost many friends in that battle, Major General Logrev Barkley among them.” The troops listened as Alejandro began speaking from the platform. There was no anger or grief in their eyes, just a soldierly resolve and an intense focus. “We do not have time to stop and look back. We have to keep moving forward while storing the gratitude we have for our lost friends in our hearts. In order to win a better future for all humanity.” A quiet heat spread through the audience. And seeing that, Alejandro cleared his throat. “And with that, I’ll spare you my bad attempts at this kind of speech. No matter how I say it, it’s not going to change the promises we made our comrades or the future we are fighting for. Am I wrong?” “” “The battle the other day showed us something. Starting now, we will be pushing forward. Humanity has been forced to retreat for too long. That humiliation ends now.” Alejandro really was good at capturing people’s hearts. He had an intense passion in his voice that gradually but forcefully drew in anyone listening to him, sparking a similar intensity in their hearts until they were looking ahead with him, cloaked in the same intensity of purpose before they realized it. “Sigrdrifa.” That word filled the soldiers’ ears, seeping into their heads and into their souls. It was the name for the maidens of war who would take flight and do battle to reclaim the skies from the pillars of light. The women who would spread their wings and soar high above to carry on the wishes of their fallen comrades and fulfill the hopes of every living person. Sigrdrifa—the wings of victory. “That is the name for the winged Valkyries who will fight for the future of humanity.” Sigrdrifa—the wings that had been broken once before would rise again for the sake of the world. Wings that would rejoin the battle, having survived the fateful Flight of the Valkyrie and the Return of the Valkyrie. And befitting that name, they would wage war to reclaim those sublime, clear-blue skies for all future generations. “This is the commissioning ceremony of the commander who will lead that force, the commanding officer of the Valkyrie Squadron Sigrdrifa. Step forward, Major Rusalka Evereska.” “Yes, sir.” Called forward at the end of that theatrical performance, Rusalka looked straight ahead. Taking her place next to Alejandro, she stood tall as the gazes of the troops, the maintenance crews, the operators, and above all, her fellow Valkyries focused on her. “Rusalka Evereska, reporting for duty as the commanding officer of the Valkyrie Squadron Sigrdrifa.” Beneath the wide-open skies, there wasn’t a single cloud in her eyes as she accepted her commission. 8 Somewhere, there was a dark, dark room. It was an odd place, containing a vast space with a towering ceiling. And yet, for some reason, it felt definitively closed-off from the world. There were several rows of seats all lined up in front of a large screen—it might take a moment, but anyone would think it a theater after examining the room. But while there were well over a hundred seats, only a single one was filled. There was a single small figure in the center seat right up in the first row. The figure quietly ran a hand through his black hair and let out a long, tired sigh. “—So you’ve finally started to move, Sigrdrifa.” It was a murmur that imparted how long it took for this moment to come. But the voice sounded young, even childlike. The shadowy figure was small, and there was a childish charm to his face. The black-haired boy had a handsome face, and a black eye patch covered his left eye. His voice was tinged with joy and fear as he said one more thing: “—Ragnarök draws near.”