Frontline-Hearts

by Y. Okamura

The year was 1941, the world is ravaged once more by the curse of War. But in the midst of chaos and despair, Nine brave souls will discover something that still exists during humanity's darkest hours. Initial pairings are Eli Maki, and Nozo Nico. May change during story's progression.

13. Fireflies

AN: What a year that was! How are you guys doing?

---

Act 3: Dawn's Early Light

Having their intentions known to the Allies and its eastern colonies, Japanese high command wasted no time and ordered the commanders of its various army groups to further take advantage of the element of surprise.

Gensui Minami, the overseer of the Empire's southern front took heed and gave strict timetables for her underlings to comply. In British Malaya, the rapid deployment of Kotori's 23rd Army shocked their adversaries who were confident that the lush jungles and rough terrain would slow the tigress' advance; while their inland positions and even the main base in Singapore suffered from the relentless bombings meted out by aircrews stationed in Saigon, and their newest ally; Thailand.

Meanwhile tasked with the most vital role of subduing the stagnant and antiquated American forces in the Philippine isles, Lt. General Kousaka enacted Operation M; a plan which called for the swift capture of Manila, and put an end to the commonwealth cause before the mainland could send reinforcements within a month's time.

Faced with a monumental dilemma of personnel management, and going against an army far greater in terms of manpower and logistics; she decided to rely heavily on the premise of aviation, their airframes unmatched by the Far East Air Corps in terms of numbers, unsurpassed agility, and most of all; experience.

Luzon's skies went ablaze as Imperial flyers lay waste to their airbases in Clark and Iba, while their fleet moored in Zambales and Cavite were never spared from the Empire's wrath. Within hours, the Far Eastern Fleet was reduced to a mere shadow of its former self; with only two of their submarines left to thwart the perceived landings on Aparri and Lingayen Gulf. The USAFFE's main headquarters in the island of Corregidor, although deemed impregnable to attacks from the sea; was rocked by violent blasts from Army aviators stationed in Formosa, and the massive guns of Hearn and Leary howled through the night in hopes of exacting a toll against an enemy found a mile high.

The island of Camiguin, the only landmass with a sizeable airfield on Luzon's crown was captured by a detachment of rikusentai after a brief skirmish with local police and quickly became the staging ground for further sorties as the 243rd Kokutai; a land-based Naval fighter wing once stationed near the Formosan city of Tainan, moved in with their zeroes to provide close air support to the 3rd Kokusentai's lumbering bombers.

Now with the stage set for a showdown between the rising power of the east and one of South East Asia's colonial masters, a pair of aquamarines glittered beneath a magnificent dome of stars; protected by a pane of glass.

Chapter 13: Fireflies

I wonder what fate awaits me here?

Yukiho breathed a hurried sigh as she stared through her reflection cast upon the canopy's sheet of glass. The muffled roar of the engines kept the ensign's soul at bay, while the sight of the red sun painted on its wing kept her mind at ease; with worries cast underneath a field of endless sky. Beads of light flickered at the backdrop of the darkest blue, giving the surreal sense of a moment's reprieve to the girl whose pupils widened with outright glee.

I wish I could invite onee-san to watch the stars with me one day.

"But then, we both have a war to fight . . . So I guess stargazing could wait till it's over." The redhead averted her gaze towards the instruments that adorned its dashboard, with dials illuminated with a fluorescent shade of green; and numerals painted in the glossiest of white.

"I only pray that she doesn't forget to eat supper and brush her teeth before bed."

The pilot giggled from such an absurd wish, but stopped when she remembered how her sister had gone to great lengths just to arrange her untimely transfer from the Imperial strike force.

A few hours ago, I was celebrating victory with the rest of Akagi's crew. Now, I find myself in another sortie without any hopes of rest and a guarantee of safe return.

She freed a hand from the steering rod and took a bar of chocolate from a breast pocket to gorge upon in hopes of keeping herself up, but the girl decided to save it for later; as her wingman pulled right beside her. The aviator on the other side of the mirror waved at the officer in harried beats, while the latter narrowed her eyes and frowned after she recognized the purplish strands which dangled from the seams of her fur lined cap.

"Fumiko? What on earth is she doing here?"

Then after a brief burst of static, the bubbly petty officer spoke with a hint of mischief set on her tone.

"Oh heeeey, guess who's back?"

Yukiho rolled her eyes from sheer disinterest and flipped the switch to respond:

"Yeah, I know. It's you."

"Come on now Yuki," Ms. Fukuda chimed, "aren't you happy that your brave wingman is here to accompany you?"

"Oh I sure am happy." She then stared at her with a blunt glare, "But aren't you going to be court martialled for deserting the fleet anchored at Wake?"

"Bah, don't worry . . . Your sister got me covered."

Hearing this, the lieutenant clicked her tongue and set those pair of piercing aquamarines at the aircraft's holographic sights that had its crosshairs painted in the brightest hue of orange.

"That sister of mine sure does know how to convince even one of the highest admirals out there."

"Well, you should be proud of it! General Kousaka is one of those well loved and highly respected commanders as far as I know!"

"I highly doubt it." She chided, "She wouldn't be in Formosa if the former prime minister knew that Tojo wasn't very fond of her."

"Oh, is that so?" Fumiko paused for a bit then exclaimed, "Ah!" which caused her superior to raise an eyebrow and ask:

"Huh? Is there something wrong?"

"Oh nothing, it's just that I remembered a rumour about your sister."

"What about it?"

"I heard that she's so good in melee that even the one eyed gargoyle can't beat her on an armed sparring match."

"Gargoyle?" Kousaka then cleared her throat, "Who? Admiral Ozawa of the third fleet?"

"No, silly!" the purplenette retorted with a snort, "Captain Sonoda of the marines!"

Confused as to who this Colonel Sonoda was, Yukiho rummaged through her memories to no avail; by which the voluptuous wingman added, "You know, that blue haired lady who has a nasty scar on her right eye . . ."

"Hmm, blue hair eh . . ." The lass thought with a hand under her chin.

"She's your sister's childhood friend, and I saw her sleeping at your house way back when they were in highschool!"

"Oh, I remember now!" The redhead beamed like a giddy little tot, "So Umi-senpai is the overall commander of rikusentais stationed here?"

"Yep, and who knew that such a fine swordsman like her would be easily gobbled up by the rough battling brawler?"

Casting a bit of doubt on the ginger's abilities, Yukiho interrupted Fumiko's mindless chatter and jeered,

"Come on now, you speak like you've seen them fight in person!"

I mean, how can that dopey sister of mine match Umi's lightning reflexes? I just don't have the slightest idea on how she could triumph against someone who had practiced the sword art of iaido all her life.

"Well I just heard that from Kaicho's mouth while he's talking with someone on the phone, and I guess that's already tangible enough as proof!"

"Fumiko, you freaking rumor monger . . . no wonder everyone else on the ship hates you."

But right before the two of them could continue with their useless banter, a coarse voice suddenly butted in after emitting a very loud buzz on their headsets.

"We've been listening for quite some time now, and I must tell you fools to stop wasting your batteries for such useless chatter! We're in enemy territory for kamisama's sake!"

"Gomeeeen!" wingman Fukoda apologized in earnest, while the lieutenant looked away and scratched her head out of searing dismay.

Ugh, this is what happens if you're in the same unit with a very talkative friend. . . And just when I thought I could finish this sortie without muttering a single word.

Soon, several zeroes took their place on either side of Yukiho's craft; their slanted faint band of blues on its rear fuselage gleamed against the faint beams of moonlight, a far cry from the vertical streak of red painted on Fumiko's own. It was indeed the distinguishing mark possessed by Tainan's finest, aside from their tail markings which had the letter "V" emblazoned before its unique set of serial numbers. Most of the members of the 243rd are already veterans of the ongoing Sino-Japanese war, some of which were aces who had spent countless hours on the cockpit and had already reached more than the desired minimum of five kills.

"So you must be our new section leader, huh?" A pilot found on the starboard next to her wingman inquired. Ensign Kousaka just gave off a nod and hummed, which was then followed through by another who remarked:

"Ahh, look at the band painted on both of their zeroes . . . If my memories serve me well, I reckon that you two once belonged to Akagi! It must've been rough travelling this far just to get on with another sortie."

"Tell me about it." the redhead huffed.

It was so rough that I felt like my bladders were going to explode from the distance traveled between wake and the refueling station at Gilbert Islands.

"Hey new guy!" the aviator situated portside hollered out, and the rookie was forced to verify the tail mark that was very much like his peers; except that it was white like hers, indicative of a flight officer.

Based on how he called me out and the streak painted just like mine, I think he's the senior charged on this flight.

"You better keep your eyes peeled for Americans and their Fillipawns because we are almost near their flight corridor!"

"Flight corridor?" The purplenette inserted, "What?"

"It's the area where we frequently encounter bogeys, get it?" He snarled, then continued to brief the novice officer of what she may encounter in this far flung backwater of the United States.

"Filipino aviators can be distinguished by the antiquated planes they use, and are usually not a threat unless we let them past us and swarm our bombers. Americans on the other hand, use better equipment like F4F Wildcats, P-37's and the much rarer P-40 Warhawk."

The Senior Lieutenant then looked down, by which Yukiho followed suit and was enthralled by the sight of Mitsubishi G4m's; a land based twin engine heavy bomber which supplemented the ageing G3m's that once formed the backbone of the IJN's various Kokutai. Its unmistakeable cigar shaped hull further distinguished it from its twintailed predecessor, while its broad green wings reflected a bit of the moon's endearing light; proudly beaming those lustrous red suns that shone in all its glory.

"These are the guys we need to protect, and do you see those smaller twin engine craft situated right next to it?"

She shifted her gaze to the bomber's aft and saw a smaller green frame that shared the same profile with its neighbour, except that the blade and the tip of its wings were painted in yellow.

"See the unique colour scheme of yellow on its wings? That's from the Army, a heavy fighter known as the Ki-45 Toryu. There are actually several of them scattered on this formation, aside from their lightly armed yet nimble Ki-43 Hayabusas."

"Which unit did these guys come from?" the befuddled lass inquired.

"Formosa's 54th Sentai, the Army's equivalent of our Kokutai. You may see its unique tail insignia if you'll fly right next to them, but for now . . . let's focus over the horizon for any signs of trouble."

The redhead returned to watch over her sights, while the flight commander gave her one last word of advice.

"Now, I know you already know this; but let me reiterate that you must always keep an eye out to your speed and altitude!"

"Yes, sir! I will!"

"Oh, and one more thing . . ." The man then puckered his lips, "Watch out for the P40 with a white swirl drawn on its black nosecone, she's an ace among the Far East's pursuit squadron."

"She? You mean . . ."

"Yep, a lot of us had already seen and confirmed that she's female . . . and she's very good, mind you. Been flying here for a couple of days now and that witch shot several bombers in just one pass!"

With that said, the Captain peeled off and went to brief the other section leaders about the dangers that lay ahead.

"Well, well~" Fumiko mused, "Looks like we have ourselves a rival here, Yuki!"

"Yeah," The ensign gazed through a blur cast by the propeller, "and let's try bringing her down, shall we?"

"Aye, aye! You can always count on me!"

---

Meanwhile deep within Nobunaga's iron hull, an antagonistic pair of rubies set itself against a mellow pair of turquoises; eager to evict the voluptuous succubus who unjustly barged in and rid the demon of a chance to procure a good night's rest.

I am definitely in a bad mood right now, and this plump, large, bulbous chested cow is hogging my bed!

"I am very happy to meet you, Nico!" the officer smiled, before rolling over to offer her hand for a shake.

"By the way, my name's Nozomi! Nice to meet you!"

But instead of grabbing it to signify an amicable response, the former just stared at the purplenette's gesture and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from her pocket; an insult that didn't faze the newly deployed ensign who retained her friendly demeanour despite the obvious breach of seniority and respect.

Oh-kay . . . If I'll ignore her, maybe she'll just leave my room.

The corporal then twisted its cap and chugged a mouthful of the poor man's brew, all the while batting an eye for the peculiar guest who finally withdrew her gesture and exclaimed:

"Wow! I guess Colonel Sonoda was right! You are very good when it comes to drinking ale!"

Avulsed by the mere mention of her commander's name, Nico coughed for a bit then snarled, "Why don't you just shut the fuck up and mind your own freaking business?!"

"Sorry!" Nozomi clasped and giggled like a tot, while the raven threw the bottle that seamlessly shot through the porthole.

"Anyways," the raven wiped off with a sleeve, "I should go sleep now."

"But, we haven't introduced each other that much yet."

Oh god, I swear . . . that voice of hers is going to kill me for sure!

"Look," the demon turned to face the befuddled lass, "I don't care if I don't know you fully, but I am sure that you're a mainlander. So I am confident that you won't even dare creep upon me while I sleep."

She then removed her rucksack, sling, and those heavy pair of boots; and crawled in to rest still wearing an enlisted man's field cap.

I won't be removing my coat and pants like I usually do, or she might throw up from seeing how much decay had taken its toll on my skin. It's been a day since I had a salt bath, and death's lingering kiss sure is quick to manifest once I neglect such a miniscule task.

It didn't take long before her fears were realized when, out of disgust; Nozomi covered her nose with a piece of cloth and remarked,

"My, this room smells funny!"

Oh boy, Nico rolled eyes as she tried to come up with at least a decent answer.

"Blame the engineers for not cleaning their mess out there!"

"No, this one's definitely not from oil and grease . . ." She then squinted her orbs towards the secretive roommate, "It's like someone died here."

Uh-oh . . . Yazawa's eyes widened from the lass' grim statement , and was about to tuck her legs under its sheets when the minister's daughter flexed those generously stuffed pair of arms and said: "Welp, I was taught that the battlefield would be far worse than the weird stench I'm getting right now. . ." then leaned over to flick the switch which finally turned the incandescent bulb from a very bright star to a mere shadow of its former self.

Finally, I could now rest in . . . what the?

A pair of hands gently crept from behind, and duly wrapped itself on her slender frame. Powerless to stop the behemoth's caress as her limbs were caught between its succulent husks, the empire's most feared warrior looked over her shoulder and saw those virulent pair of jades; latched against her own with a hint of malice which reminded the little girl of the man whom she once called her saviour, and light.

Those eyes, I swear . . . I saw those wily pair flash through the darkness of my cell.

"Ara, ara, Niccochi . . ." Tojo squealed like a pup as she dug her nose deeper to the raven's nape, "I'm sorry but I can't help grabbing anything that lies right next to me."

Ticked at how close she was to the bosom of her roommate, the scrawny footman tried to set herself loose with a scowl.

"Oh you better get your crummy hands off me or you'll sleep with a black eye, I swear!"

"I'm sorry, but I just can't help it!"

"Don't tell me that you're afraid of the dark?!"

"N-no I'm not . . . it's just that I saw a trio of eyes on the door just now!"

Nico then paused for a bit, as she caught glimpse of her roommate's hand creeping towards her underdeveloped chest.

I promised not to hurt another comrade in arms, but it seems I might break someone's arm tonight.

"Oh get off me you cow!" She cried, by which the ensign quickly gave way to the rowdy seaman who immediately rolled over and turned the lights back before opening the entrance with a slam.

"Alright, if you want to pick a fight with me then . . . huh?"

Nico then narrowed her brows when she realized that the entity described by the newcomer was nothing more than the great Taisho and her loyal Daisa, each of them carrying a bottle of champagne and a pair of glasses; with the ginger cracking a very dumb smirk, and Umi still sporting a cold glare as always.

"What in the world are you two bozos doing in this time of night?"

"Who are you calling a bozo? You better watch your mouth Yazawa, for that's not the way you should address your superiors!" the Colonel barked out of disgust.

But the disrespectful runt crossed her arms, and spat her usual banter directly at the gargoyle's marred guise.

"Oh I could say whatever I want, because that's what the mouth is for. So suck on that, bluey."

Defeated without a chance of rebuttal, the lady looked away; while Honoka gently approached and flashed the large green bottle with a grin.

"We're just here to welcome Nozomi on her first tour of duty, so please let us in!"

"Whuh?" She grumbled with brows raised," You mean that cow behind me?" the grunt then tossed a thumb over her shoulder, while the girl in question hugged the pillow closer to her chest. Vexed at the way Nico referred to the minister's daughter, Sonoda recovered from her insult and cried:

"Don't you have the slightest idea on whom you're referring to as a fat piece of cud chewing livestock?"

By which the ginger intervened and whispered, "Umi, I think your choice of words are a lot worse than those given by Nico."

Realizing her mistake, the bluenet's cheeks suddenly flashed an unearthly hue of red; followed by an apology sealed with a bow.

"Gomen . . . My bad."

"It's . . . it's alright, it's nothing really." The green eyed neophyte rolled her gaze from the bumbling trio, with turquoise orbs surrounded by a subtle field of pink; clearly hurt by how the veterans referred to her voluptuous form.

"See? Even she's okay with it." Nico shrugged like everything's alright, but Umi being the fighter she was then snarled,

"But that doesn't mean you should insult her just like that!"

Caught in the crossfire between battle hardened marines, General Kosaka snuck past the ill mannered revenant and sat right next to one of Otonoki's newest alumnae; while the two bickered about in a seemingly endless cycle of curses that seemed to serve as a routine they couldn't live without, as loud overtures were soon transformed to a high pitched yell . . . In the part of Sonoda that is.

"Those two make a good pair," The general cracked a mischievous smile, then turned to stare at a reflection cast by the bottle's chartreuse skin, "Yukiho, please come back safe, and sound."

---

A couple of hours had passed since they left Camiguin's dusty field, and the redheaded leader of third squadron did her best to fight the sandman's spell. She blinked frivolously just to keep herself up, but her arms grew weary of being glued to the steering rod that seemed to yank itself off her grip.

That's it, I'm tired. Let's just drop these bombs and get this over with.

Her wingman on the other hand hummed some random tunes, and failed to realize that she forgot to switch the radio off since her last transmission an hour ago. But the rest of the veteran crew were ever vigilant as they approached Pampanga's provincial borders.

"Be ready guys. In just half an hour, we'll reach our destination; Clark." The captain buzzed over the airwaves, snapping the ensign from the state of delirium.

"Huh? Clark?" She then looked over portside and saw the coast of Zambales, all inked in black; except for the summit of various peaks which mimicked the lustrous shimmer of the sea beyond.

Man, it's a shame that I missed a lot of this wonderful scenery just because I struggled to keep myself up.

Her aquamarines soon rolled starboard and the gal chuckled when she saw the wingman moving her head from one side to the other, paired with gibberish mantras consistent of someone who slowly drifted into sleep's alluring lullaby.

"Uh-oh, looks like someone's sleeping in the air tonight."

Well atleast everything's going well for us.

The thin veil of lucent mist soon gave way to a plethora of lights nestled at a distance which brought a subtle smug to the ensign who snided:

''So far, so good.''

It didn't take long until a muffled creak emanated from a nearby bomber, followed by its pilot's transmission that went after a hefty barrage of crackles.

"We're about to deliver Sam some very nice presents, so hold on tight boys!"

A dozen bombs arranged in rows of six dangled head first from its bay, while its bombardier focused his sights at a narrow airfield bordered by strobes of red and blue. As petite swabs of clouds obstructed his view of Clark's main thoroughfare, the man clutched the lever which would release all its sixty pound payload and spat:

"Cursed western scums! The Colonel wishes to express her season's greetings!"

But then a shower of bullets ripped through its torso, and the G4m was reduced to a giant fireball which flaked with a flurry of sparks as it had viciously disintegrated into nothing more than a fuming husk. Everyone was furious and shocked when it happened, while Yukiho looked over her shoulder and saw a lone silhouette cast against the moon's luminous disc. It descended at breakneck speed, and the novice flight officer was soon able to catch glimpse of its overall profile as it swooped between her wingman who was already wide awake and pale from fright.

That craft, it is a lot larger than our zeroes.

"What on earth happened?!" The jittery petty officer yelled on top of her lungs, but the redhead set her glare towards the marauding P-40; enthralled by the pilot's audacity to dive into a swarm of hornets. The boys of the 243rd naval fighter group didn't waste another second and followed suit, while the American drove through a stream of 20mm fire that came from a bomber's tail gunner and its neighbors.

A pair of chartreuse orbs glistened behind a goggle's sullen glare, while locks of the finest gold wafted from her cap's fur lined seam; reflecting Luna's lustrous beams like a field of marigolds during the advent of spring. The commonwealth dervish used the momentum from her wild dash to close in to the condemned G4m, while its gunner fired wildly into its looming silhouette; spewing citrine tracers which resembled like embers flying off a blazing heap of straw, missing its glass by a mere inch.

"One less Jap overhead, and one more kill mark for little miss Ohara." The blonde muttered under her breath, all the while flashing a malicious grin. With its cigar like torso finally a centimetre below her crosshairs, the raider pressed hard against its fire button and watched as .50 calibre rounds tore through its duralumin skin; together with the gunner's own. Fuel tanks found on the centre of its hull violently exploded with a base of blue flames, while the crew; desperate to save themselves from the inferno that was about to engulf their craft decided to jump, choosing to die by a fall from ten thousand feet rather than being burned alive.

It was all over within a span of seconds, and the intrepid fighter swerved to evade the small arms fire which whizzed from machineguns on the windows carved by the bomber's sides. 7.7mm rounds shrieked as it merely touched her aircraft's skin, but the blonde's determination to make a name for herself gave the push she needed to fly in the midst of intense enfilade fire; knowing all too well that a single misstep could spell a bitter end for her career.

"Wow." Kousaka muttered under her breath, "Such bravery."

The Japanese officer was in awe of her adversary's bull-headed approach, and didn't dare to make a move to defend her kin as she was embroiled at satiating her curiosity on how the pale skinned demon accomplished such feat, while the faithful Fumiko looked at her with furrowed brows riddled with concern.

"Three . . ."

The American zeroed in to a hapless Ki-45, the Army's heavy fighter that was inspired by Nazi Germany's twin tailed Bf-110. It tried to evade by veering to the right, while its torso gunner managed to chip some skin off her wing with its drum fed type 89 heavy machinegun. But the manoeuvre was too little, too late; and the craft's left wing parted from its entirety under the merciless barrage of three pairs of fifty cal. Flight fuel ignited soon as it left its severed tubes, and the fallen Toryu slowly spiralled to its demise with a trail of the most luminous red. Infuriated by the way their comrade suffered in the hands of this girl, the Ki-43's scrambled in hot pursuit of the warhawk; unleashing a payload of high explosive rounds from their nose mounted pair of slow firing 12.5mm Ho-103's, a gun that was in fact a copy of the American's browning heavy machinegun. Irked at the timing of their appearance, Lt. Ohara opted to withdraw; due to the fact that the Hayabusas had a solid reputation of being a very potent dogfighter, much like the Imperial Zeroes that descended into the fray.

"There's a time to fight," She then flicked the dashboard switch which raised her wing's combat flaps, "And a time to retreat."

Exploiting her aircraft's unmatched speed during a steep dive, the Curtiss P40 performed a barrel roll and dove underneath the formation of bombers that desperately expended drums of .303 Jap. Bullets arced from their belly compartments with tracers all in brightened shades of citrus and green, while the fighters tried to pursue the Far Eastern ace; but their lighter build and weaker engine hampered their ability to keep up with the heavier craft that simply sank like a rock and disappeared into the darkness of night. Unable to exact revenge, the yellow banded 43's painfully tried to recover their altitude to fly close to those who were left behind, hoping that they could finish the mission intact and return to fight another day.

The zeroes on the other hand were just as confused and mingled with their oversized kin, and the captain; annoyed by the one sided fight given to them by a gal bent his frustration towards Yukiho who was still half a mile high.

"Kosaka!" Their flight leader howled, "What on earth are you doing?!"

Realizing that she had been idle for too long, Lt. Kosaka immediately flipped the switch on her dashboard and replied, "I have been scanning the skies for any other signs of danger, sir!"

With the threat of the swirl nosed craft duly abated by the 54th sentai's botched effort at defense, the sub- lieutenant was about to reunite with her comrades when she caught sight of silverish glints that seemed to be headed right into their path. Left with no one else to depend on except Fumiko after the rest of the squad followed after the raider's reckless plunge, she looked at her trusty partner and beamed, "Looks like we're going to have our hands full, Fumiko."

The blimps soon turned out to be the outdated and outgunned Boeing p-26 "pea shooters", an open cockpit, single winged craft that had a central mast found behind its pilot; where a plethora of wires were strung with the other end located on its ailerons, tail fins, and even on its fixed landing gears. It was a cumbersome piece of military equipment, hard to manoeuvre, and armed only with a pair of cowling mounted .30 calibre BMG's. Yet even if firepower and manoeuvrability were in favour of the imperial duo, they couldn't downplay the fact that they were facing an entire squadron hellbent on defending the motherland to their last breath.

Pausing for a moment before the fight of their lives, the redhead reached for the cannon switch situated on the leftmost panel; and stared at the wingman that already slid her goggles in place.

"Are you ready?" She then covered her aquamarines with her father's heirloom, a pair of goggles where the kanji of "Falcon" was painted on its strap.

"As ready as you are, partner." The purplenette responded with a wink.

With the defenders approaching en masse and no hopes of reinforcement, the lass took a deep breath and whispered, "I can't die right now, not when my sister is watching on the sidelines."

Her eyes narrowed at the point where the orange lines met, a very tiny window of opportunity where all her guns are set.

And I hope she'll be happy to see me after I return in one piece.

The small dots that were spotted and recognized only half a minute ago soon grew to a discernable silhouette; complete with a precarious system of wires which emanated from its central post. Kousaka then levelled her craft just enough to grant a millimetre of allowance above the target from its point of trajectory. And with every battle, there will always be someone who should take the first shot; a feat that was about to be pulled off by the general's little sister who already had streams of cold sweat down the furrows of her guise.

"Father, now I understand what you felt during the days of the great war."

She braced herself and in the blink of an eye, the tightly packed cabin vibrated from the simultaneous barrage of nose mounted 7.7mm Type 89's and 20mm Mk.1 Type 99's on each wing, sending a stream of yellowish blots that arced as it made its way to its intended target.

Please fly true and hit your mark.

The Filipinos on the other side of the line had all their attention set to the lumbering bombers that screeched beneath their frames, and was about to coordinate a suicidal swan dive into the den of wolves when the lead pilot saw a distant flash from the corner of his eye. Baffled, he immediately turned to see what it was; and immediately rolled his craft from the luminous burst unleashed by the enemy from a quarter mile out, knocking only its left landing gear which caused him to temporarily lose control of the foolhardy airframe.

Kuso.

It was a terrible miscalculation on the part of the lieutenant, a miss that made their position known to a hoard of outdated machinery that immediately closed in to engage and fired ravenously towards the novice pair; all the while ignoring the slow and battered strike force that limped down below. Her comrades on the other hand caught glimpse of the commotion above, and tried their best to regain altitude to aid the besieged officer. Numbers was the name of the game, a factor which Yukiho sorely lacked; but as far as experience was concerned, the junior officer had a lot more compared to the measly training the Filipinos had endured.

Streams of bright lead filled the outcast skies of Pampanga, as the airfield's perimeter defences finally came to life and hurled fuming shells which sparkled like fireflies after a long stormy night. Sirens howled its ear piercing shriek, while searchlights sifted through the clouds and illuminated the white bellied beasts that were about to drop its payload into its battered runway. Footmen ran to and fro its concrete alleyways, carrying with them crates of ammunition filled with belts of high explosive rounds. The solemn hum of diesoline engines dominated the chaotic ambience, its eerie shadows loomed above Clark like a vulture following the trail of its dying prey. Deafening blasts from proximity charges echoed like an ensemble of drums, blooming all around them like the cherries they so loved and missed. Soon, flames sprouted out of a flying hamaki's wing; followed by an inferno that was about to engulf the unfortunate aircraft and its crew of six. Condemned to suffer a painful demise, its bombardier decided to release its load in hopes of hitting whoever's below right before he was reduced into a burning heap of flesh and shattered vows. Bits of shrapnel tore through the thin duralumin skin on some of these fragile bombers, wounding either a bombardier, waist gunner, or even the pilot and its partner nestled up front. The fallen flyers fell like meteors under a starry sky, burning bright one second; and gone in the other. But those who remained, either battered or untouched; waited for the fateful moment when their sights caught glimpse of the runway's heart and its numerous structures, especially the oil depots and rusted hangars that littered the narrow boulevard which personified the commonwealth's will to carry on the fight. Everyone fell silent as their crosshairs inched towards their targets, with droplets of sweat pouring past their eyes which glimmered from the promise of war's end before Christmas. Then, after a brief crackle on the airwaves; the captain cried out "Hasha!" and the bombardiers simultaneously pulled the levers that unleashed a myriad of bombs which whistled as it fell.

and the zeroes found themselves surrounded by peashooters which took turns on swerving around and strafe past them. It wasn't the honourable duel which Yukiho had hoped, but she must come up with a plan or risk being burned to a crisp once a single round ignites the fuel tank situated just behind her seat.

"Fumiko!" She yelped while pushing the stick sharply to her aft, sending the aircraft into a wide spiralling dive to evade these would be assailants.

"What?!"

"What happened to you? Why didn't you take a shot at them while they're still far out?!"

The redhead then looked over her shoulder and saw ten of these miniscule fighters behind her tail in groups of five; each of them positioned in her five and seven respectively, and all eager to take the honour of eliminating a flight officer whose identity was given away by the white band situated next to its roundel.

"Well?!" She snapped out of disparity, by which her wingman replied, "My guns are jammed! That's why!"

"WHAT?!"

Frustrated by the stroke of luck bestowed upon her, she immediately scanned for her mate and saw that the lass was also in the middle of a vicious struggle against a dozen up above.

"Oh this is just great!" Kosaka returned her attention to the instruments up front, and grit her teeth as the dials wildly spun on its axis.

I'm almost approaching the 525 km/h limit, and I must find a way to get them off my six or I'll be subjected to an uncontrollable dive or have these wings snapped on the spot!

But before she can do anything drastic, Lt. Kosaka suddenly got a hint of what Petty officer Fukuda faced when her eyes caught glimpse of the jutting breeches of the cowling mounted type 92's; together with a pair of levers that can help the pilots clear round misfeeds during mid flight, a feature unique only to the Zero.

Oh she better not be lying on me now.

"Are you sure it's just a jam you got there?!"

"I kept pressing the button and all I heard were clicks!"

"Had you checked your machineguns? Just crank the levers and it'll be fine!"

"Uhh, hold on for a sec."

Little did the bewildered lass know that the p-26's were able to close in due to their heavier weight, and was shocked after she heard a sound which resembled like a flurry of stones hitting a slab of rolled steel.

Now what?

Puzzled, she immediate gazed portside and her pupils suddenly widened from the realization that her right wing's fuel tank had ruptured; spilling volatile aviation fuel in a luminous spray which mimicked the faded beams of moonlight.

"Oh, shit." Yukiho muttered under her breath, wherein her wingman suddenly cracked, "I know you'll probably hate me for this . . ." followed by a burst of awkward chuckles, "But hey, you know what? My guns are out of bullets!"

Already on the verge of tears and infuriated by the mess they're in, the officer bit her lips and took quick frivolous breaths as rounds streaked past the canopy and into the darkness below.

If it's time, then there's nothing I can do. But as long as my hands are glued to this steering rod and my aircraft still responsive to it, I'll have to fight back and bring as much as I can to my final resting place!

Seeing how dire her situation was, with the wingman struggling up above with a swath of cantankerous foes; Yukiho tried to postulate a favourable cause of action, looking past the jaws of terror which slowly gripped the young girl's mind.

I shouldn't falter,

She guzzled in some more fruitful breaths, in an urge of calming down the storm of doubt that razed within her like a wildfire in midsummer morn.

But what should I do? How can I make a last stand if I can't even think clearly in such a time like this?

Her worries soon faded to a blur when image came to mind, that of a ginger whose heart was filled with compassion and love; paired by a warm smile that gave her a sense of comfort during her darkest of days, as a child growing in the stead of a veteran scarred by war.

"Onee-chan," the redhead mumbled, "What would you do if you were on my shoes?"

Bullets whizzed through her canopy like mad, with some tearing up the fragile aluminium skin which draped the zero's dull grey hull; causing quite a stir in her ears which resembled a bouquet of nails scratching on a tarnished piece of board. Then the lass looked over her shoulder and gasped, after remembering a little trick she learned during her time as a student at Akeno's flying school.

"That's it . . ." Yukiho returned her gaze upon its dimly lit dashboard, "I remembered that this aircraft of mine has a little something off its sleeve, and all I need to do is execute a tiny bit of exploitation."

The young aviator forcefully yanked its already frozen rod aft, never minding the stray shards of glass which ripped through her cheek as rounds arced in fervid beats. Paired with a quick push of its adjacent pedal, the zero duly submitted to its master's whim and turned on its belly to prepare for a dive into the searing enemy sky. But it didn't come with price, and the little girl felt nauseous as blood rushed towards the edge of her crown. An illusion soon came into play after the snapped roll, which resembled stars that popped into view; coupled with the gut wrenching feeling that time seemed to had stopped dead on its tracks. Everything went slow for the intrepid flyer, with the nail biting shriek of machineguns and bombs reduced to an echoing blur that mimicked her heart's dying pulse.

Give me strength, so I could end this fight with a smile set on my lips.

Then with a quick forceful whim, the craft dove into the abyss with all hopes laid upon the training she had years back.

"Don't fail me now." She gnashed her teeth as a roaring headache started to take its course, while the distressful cry of its engine filled the night with its sullen tune. It screeched as its rudders were pushed to its limits, causing the nimble Nipponese craft to bend on its master's command; executing a headlong dive which left the foolhardy Filipinos aghast, and unable to follow through in earnest.

"Nakakawala na siya! Habulin nyo!" (He's getting away! After him!) The squadron leader barked at his subordinates, who all then went to a hasty plunge with guns blazing in fervid bursts.

But just as when salvation was within arm's reach, hues of ochre and red filled the lass' eyes; blinding her for a split second, followed by a searing jolt from her left lower arm that caused her to release the throttle in a heartbeat.

"Nani?" The lass panned those lustrous aquamarines towards the spot where warmth seeped through a sleeve, then screamed when she saw an iron bar had skewered her flesh; flung by an anti-aircraft shell that detached a piece of rib from the rei sen's wing.

Despair returned to flood the redhead's mind, its volatile spell slowly inching away at what little hope she had mustered a while back. Yet in the midst of agony, Lieutenant Kosaka was determined to fight it out; even if it spelled certain death.

"Not today . . ." Pulling out the cotton scarf Fumiko tied hours earlier, the redhead quickly clenched her bloodied fist and tied it onto the lever which controlled the thrust; neverminding the numbing barrage of pain that threatened to shut her senses down.

"I must push through with this," With a few harried breaths followed by a scowl, she took the chocolate from her pocket and gorged on it to help calm the nerves; all the while never taking a moment to look away from the dial which feverishly approached the 525 km threshold.

"Yukiho!" Her wingman shrieked in vain, unable to help out a dear friend during her time of need.

"Honoka . . . ." She murmured as her eyes flickered with a film of tears, "I'm sorry, but I'm not going home anymore."

The faded pair of leather gloves screeched as the girl gathered her resolve, and with a gentle pull of its stick; the brittle craft swerved to a loop, its dull grey skin reflecting the moon's dying light. The pursuers could only stare with awe set upon their orbs, as the a6m2 obscured the moon for a split second; before crashing on them with a hail of gunfire.

A burst of 20mm and .303 jap tore through the lead p26's engine bloc, spilling fuel all over the unfortunate flyer's face before the craft was reduced into a massive fireball. Taken by surprise from the quick turn of events, the entire pursuit squadron scattered to keep the zero at bay; while it cut through their loose formation to make another run.

"One down." Yukiho blandly remarked at the downed peashooter that slowly faded into the meandering abyss, with her once lively aquamarines now dull and filled to the brim with apathy. She then looked over her shoulder after a round grazed her temple, cracking a shallow smirk after seeing a pair of fighters feverishly taking turns at firing their nose mounted guns.

"Patumbahin nyo ang putang inang yan!" (Someone take that motherfucker down!) Their sergeant scowled on the air, by which the rest of the grunts dove in to intercept the intrepid cygnet that made its way through a field of heavy flak.

Everything within the confines of her canopy shook from the intensity of fervid blasts, but her hands kept steady in the midst of peril; luring the pair into a firestorm of smoke, and dust.

"Kainis!" (Goddamnit!) One of the pursuers leaned further into his sights, desperately dialling its crosshairs to latch onto the rei-sen's tail.

"Cuevas," His wingman radioed in.

"Oh?"

"Wag kang masyadong atat, hindi ka mapopromote niyan kahit mapatumba mo pa yan." (Don't get too excited, for you won't be promoted even if you successfully shoot that thing down.)

Irritated by his comrade's remark, he took a moment to stare at him and growled "Wala akong pakialam!" (I don't care!) , failing to realize that Yukiho's eyes were set towards him for quite some time.

"Never turn your gaze from an enemy," She then turned to focus on the controls and looped the craft starboard to intercept his path, exploiting the soot ridden veil of flak that masked the skyline with its incongruous puffs.

"Teka, teka," (Woah, woah there. . .) His partner soothed him off, "Pinapaalala lang kita." (I was just reminding you.)

The lead pursuer let him off the hook after that, and returned to mete some lead downrange when a streak squirmed from the corner of his lens.

"Ay, puta." (Oh, fuck.)

The airman's goggles then flew off with spatters of gore, after a high explosive shell from the zero's wing mounted cannons tore through the temple; and blew his head clean off. The other guy saw everything that happened within the blink of an eye, and was unable to evade the deadly burst of lead that pierced through his sides and snaked its way through the fuselage; igniting the fuel tank that left the craft crashing to earth with a trail of fire.

"That'll teach you."

Lt. Kousaka felt a bit of relief and took a deep breath to celebrate a victory salvaged from the jaws of defeat, doing away with the emotionless mask that helped her achieve such uncalled feat. But the struggle was far from over, as a torrent of bullets rained all around.

"Magbabayad ka, Hapon!" (You'll pay for this, Jap!) The squadron's captain cried from the top of his lungs, ordering his men not to let go until all their barrels were red hot.

"Not this again!" Yukiho quickly took action and plunged once more into a dive, pushing her luck into the teeth of fierce anti-aircraft fire.

"Yukiho . . ." A pair of sapphires glanced at a reflection cast by the waves, deep in worry; and on the verge of tears.

"Why are you always fond of making me worry?" The general skulked, then leaned by the railings with a harried sigh.

A shadow soon lurked behind, and Honoka felt a bit of warmth land on her shoulder. Thinking that it was someone she really knew so well, she curled up a smile and faced the persona dressed in green.

"And I thought you've drank too much of that fine wine I brought." The ginger raised a brow towards her one eyed confidant, the gargoyle who was once a maiden of unparalleled beauty.

"I was only able to down a few sips," Umi crossed her arms, "It was Nico and the novice who bore the brunt of it all."

With her presence already known, the Colonel conveniently stood beside and watched the ripples touch Nobunaga's ironclad keel; soliciting a giggle from the General who then pondered:

"Those two might look like a good pair, don't you think?"

The bluenet felt a chill had ran by the edge of her spine, knowing all too well that Nico's rough attitude and untameable nature had stirred numerous headaches during the time she served on the field. But for the sake of keeping the ginger amused and preoccupied, she pulled a shallow curve by those dainty lips of hers with a subtle reply.

"I believe so."

Satisfied, Kousaka returned to gaze upon the scenery up front; where an ocean of glass gently rocked underneath a surreal dome of stars.

"It's a shame that we'll be heading towards another frontline." She murmured, with eyes that showed a stint of tension.

"But we won't be the ones leading charges now. . ." Umi paused for a bit and gazed at her reflection with shared resolve, "And at least we're spared from the horrors we once saw back then."

"We may be spared from overseeing operations first hand," The lass then paced her befuddled peer, "But our men's lives depend on our decisions made behind closed doors."

Hearing this, Sonoda nodded in agreement and clasped her leather lined hands snug within each other; bothered by the predicament faced by all members of the upper echelon.

"I know."

As the veterans took a moment to think, a glint of fluorescence zipped through the skyline; diverting both their attention while it silently disappeared into the tranquil sea line. Picking up her wits, the ginger immediately donned the attitude of a child and giddily pointed at the star's final resting place; while the stoic, and ever serious bluenette could do nothing more than look at her with awe.

"Look! A nagareboshi!"

"Yes . . . I saw that." She awkwardly replied.

Bemused by such a dull response, she slapped her back with such force that it could throw someone overboard. But the marine was able to grab hold onto a section of rail, saving her from an untimely starlight dip in the middle of Bashi strait.

"Honokaaaaaa!" Umi coughed for a bit and gave a deathglare towards the teetering lass, who then burst into heartfelt laughter after she saw her flailing like mad beforehand.

"You almost had me killed! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Now that's the spirit!" Honoka sniffled, "Looks like I finally got you to act very lively!"

Unable to stomach defeat, she rolled up her sleeves and shrieked:

"Oh I'll show you what's lively!"

The Colonel lunged in to wrestle with the carrot topped maiden, but the latter's nimble reflexes won over her and soon found herself woefully pinned by the sides with the general's arms wrapped tightly by the waist. It was a very awkward position, like that of a lover giving the other a hug from behind right before the fateful moment an engagement ring was to be given.

"Looks like you've lost again in our little tussle, Umi."

"You're just lucky." She spat, still bitter from being unable to repay the ginger's unpleasant deed.

"As always?" Kousaka parried with a smug.

"Shut up."

Then, just as about they would immerse themselves with teases and jeers; a shower of lights flashed from afar, and the two once more pinned their eyes to the stretch of sky in front of them where meteors rained in fervid succession.

"Kirei . . ." The General remarked with sapphires that gleamed with sheer delight, while her naval subordinate grimaced and averted her stare into the stark impression of her down below. Noticing the sudden change of atmosphere for the bluenette, Honoka leaned in to check; and felt pity after she saw some tears drip from her chin.

"Hey," She softly hushed the seemingly bereaved confidant, "What's the matter?"

Having heard her peer's calm voice, Sonoda jolted back into reality; displeased by the fact that her vulnerability manifested itself during a time where she was supposed to show happiness in the company of her dearest peer.

"It's nothing." She then looked over her shoulder to latch those lustrous ambers into the ginger's own, "I just remembered something. That's all."

Determined to diffuse the heavy atmosphere that hung heavily by her acquaintance's head, the lady loosened her grip and inquired; "Mind telling me what it is?"

But Umi was determined to keep her past a secret, as it would mean that her reputation as a woman of dignity may be tarnished if she let the innocent consort of hers learn of such an embarrassing deed; and the fact that she was a mother, of a fatherless child. Yet in the midst of deafening silence, the commander was eager to know what's up; evidenced by the mischievous grin that surfaced on the corner of her eye.

"Come on now, don't be shy. I promise that it'll be our little secret!"

"No." She bluntly replied, but was met with persistence from the redhead who brushed against her sides.

"Oh please? Pretty please?"

"No means no. And that's final." Sonoda then tried to keep her fragile composure, doing her very best to avoid eye contact as much as possible.

"Oh I know!" the carrot topped lass exclaimed, and it was there that the marine's cold sweat started to drip down her brows; a subtle sign that she noticed and dared to exploit.

"Maybe it's about your boyfriend and all the dirty things you two did under the moonlight, eh?"

With the cover blown by beads of perspiration, and her face already red from embarrassment; the Colonel suddenly howled at her best friend who snickered about, having proven the latter's guilt.

"How shameless of you to think of your friend that way!"

But the yell seemed to had fell on deaf ears, as Honoka followed it up with yet another inquiry; much to the bluenet's dismay.

"Who's the lucky guy that got to sleep with you for the night?"

"None!" Umi glared at her once more, "Who in the right mind would love to be with an ugly mess like me?" then gazed at the moon to cover a sultry stream that ran through her flustered cheek; "Even long before I had this scar, I believe no one would even dare approach to ask my name."

"Except for mate Kanzaki, right?" the general immediately rebutted the colonel's ploy, causing her to gasp.

"How in the world . . ."

The redhead then gave her friend a pinch on the underside of her arm, "Everyone in the academy knows that, silly!"

"Mou," the bluenette purred, "More like someone had been too busy eavesdropping and spreading rumours back then."

"Come on now, every gal in the academy are fond of gossiping. It's just our nature to be like that." She shrugged, in sheer ignorance of the lady enraged with having such secrets laid bare.

"But I'm not the type of girl who would engage in such a flirtatious deed!"

And after a brief pause, the gargoyle's sharp glare was diverted towards the plump assets nestled on the side of her sleeve.

"And would you please stop brushing against my coat? What if somebody sees you acting so shamelessly like that?"

"Well . . ." Honoka rolled her eyes for a bit, and put up a dubious wry; much to the confidant's horror.

"Then let them watch!"

A hand then grasped the Colonel's chest, causing the lady to squeal as distress and embarrassment took its toll; while the mischievous taisho giggled as she had felt nothing more than a very thick layer of foam, leaving a remark that turned the bluenet's face red with anger.

"My my Umi chan, you still use this much foam after all these years . . . I am so disappointed in you!"

"Honoka!" Her citrine orb flashed against the commander's cerulean pair, "Get your hand off my breast or I'll . . ."

"You'll what?"

Silenced by the stark rebuttal, Umi tried to wriggle off the ginger's grip; but it was too strong that she just admitted defeat and sighed,

"This is the reason why Kotori hated being with you." the confidant then slumped, "You're just too darn clingy."

Hearing an old friend's name, Honoka cackled for a bit; then reminisced the times she had with the beige haired marksman.

"I sure do miss those times." The ginger mused, her eyes having panned through the ocean's distant lights.

"I gotta admit, I too long for those days long gone." The Colonel then felt her hold had melted away from such a thought, and gently sets herself loose; to stand next to a friend whose kindness seeped through a warrior's callous mask.

"Kotori always squeaked like a mouse whenever I pinned her down..." She remarked with joy strewn upon her lips, while the loyal and iron willed confidant chuckled softly right beside.

"And it was perhaps the cutest thing I love about that little bird."

"You're just horny." Umi retorted with a smug.

''No i'm not!" Honoka responded with flustered cheeks, "It's just that she looked puffy and had such a squeamish, high pitched voice."

Then in a sudden twist of luck, her vision blurred and the gal was sent to slump by it's rusted rails, grumbling inaudibly from the sheer volume of alcohol she had ingested hours before.

With the deed of tomfoolery all but forgiven, the maiden adorned with cerulean strands wrapped an arm around her indomnitable shoulder; to give a hint of warmth to a comrade, and a dear friend.

"Maybe it's time for you to rest, Taisho."

And with a quick heave, they limped through its deck; with the bluenet leading her on with a subtle nudge by the leg.

The sound of rushing waves on its starboard keel gave them something to smile about, and the two soon found themselves staring at each other with a subtle glint; and a reflection of who they once were.

A sense of awkwardness ensued, and the once bold mannered cinnamon roll with sapphire lens averted; then struggled to walk on her own, only to squander and fall.

But before her face could even touch the sullen wooden floor, Umi caught the lass' collar; and cooed,

"I am impressed," The moon's faded glow then reflected a dastardly glare from her amber orb, "You're still the bull headed Honoka I once knew."

For a brief moment, the general lay suspended at the tip of the dervish's fingers; letting out an awkward stream of cackles as her nose caught whiff of its noxious mix of wax and dust.

With its vile, nostalgic stench seeping through her alcohol drenched wit; the ginger had already forgotten that she could just prop herself up, a simple task overlooked due to wine's numbing grasp.

Unable to continue with such an awkward conversation, the minor official sighed and pulled her up.

"It's getting late." She then lifted the bewildered lass to rest upon her back in a bid to carry home.

"Umi..." She groaned, "I can still walk."

"Yeah right, tell that to your drooping arms and shaky legs."

With a quick shrug, the marine got a firm hold of those dainty pair of limbs; a deed which drew much displeasure to the carrot topped footman who tried to wriggle off her clutch.

"Seriously, I can still do it on my own."

Umi ignored her peer's request and resumed pace, that scarred guise set at an avenue lit by moonlight's lucent beam; bordered by rails, and the bristling array of casemated guns.

"Umi..." Kousaka mumbled like a tot, "I can still walk... You shouldn't be doing all this trouble just to carry me back to my transport ship."

"Transport?" The bluenet turned, "No, I'll let you sleep on my room tonight."

"Huh?"

"You may return to Kishin-maru once you had enough rest."

A shade of fuschia soon filled Honoka's cheeks after the Colonel gave her answer, then remained silent for a few seconds; only to be disrupted by the subordinate who stated the sole reason why she's in a hurry to let her rest.

"Our seaplanes are going to be back in a bit, and I don't want them to see their dearest commander all red faced and drunk."

"Seaplanes?"

"Yes."

"Where from?"

Sonoda puckered her lips for a bit and answered, "I had them sent to Camiguin and the surrounding islands of Batanes for reconnaisance."

"Oh, I see." The general gazed at the horizon then returned to lean in and inquire:

"But that wasn't as planned on our overall scheme. We were to steam straight to Luzon, and we don't have much time."

"Honoka," She looked over her shoulder once more, "do you remember why I am wearing a cap with the navy's sigil pinned on it?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." The ginger buried her face on the bluenet's back out of embarrassment, " I almost forgot that the Navy has separate directives to follow... And we're just comrades under a flag, but not in will."

"That's right. There's supposed to be some anonymity between us, with you hailing from regular infantry and me being the overall commander of special landing forces assigned on this theatre."

"Yet you still chose to report on my office as if you were an officer of mine?" Kousaka then curled a very warm, heartfelt smile; a gesture reciprocated by the one eyed devil who replied, "Kaicho won't be mad about it anyways, he's got his hands full on managing Admiral Ozawa's fleet and sending orders for our various officers scattered across the Southeastern front... And a mere deed of crossing borders won't garner such unwarranted attention from a busy man to say the least."

"But hey, im just curious," Honoka raised her brows, "Are you guys going to cooperate with our plans?"

"No worries," Umi confidently shirked, "It just so happened that the great Admiral managed to grab hold of a copy of initials back in Formosa."

Having felt a thorn had been plucked from her throat, the general lets out a sigh of relief and chimed "I guess that'll be enough to make me feel at ease."

"And besides, even if he won't try cooperating... Always remember that I'm in charge of landing operations here, and it'll be ultimately up to my own discretion."

Pleased by the assurance offered by a well respected IJN Captain, the ginger embraced her peer and said, "Looks like I can finally sleep well tonight," then removed the bluenet's olive green cover and fondly massaged her crown.

"What are you doing?" The latter irked from her random deed.

"Nothing," She then stopped and returned to caress her by the shoulder, "It's just that I am happy with you around, that's all."

"You're just drunk." Umi chided and quickened her pace, "I should definitely tuck you in bed before that wine does something bad to your brain."

---

Having being chased from an altitude of ten thousand feet, Lt. Yukiho Kousaka of the 243rd's second squadron pushed her way through heavy flak; with the craft descending on a 45 degree spiral in hopes of losing the adamant defenders and their outdated, yet numerous craft.

The zero's Nakajima Sakae engine roared like a thoroughbreed steed on full gallop, maintaining a constant speed of 420 km/h; with great care not to stray into the 500 km mark, or it'll require a feat of inhuman strength just to regain control.

Its wings sliced through the air with ease, unhindered by the fixed spatted undercarriages and wires her adversaries had.

She grinned after realizing that their guns had long been silent, with them having lagged behind. But there's only one thing that kept her eyes panning through the horizon, and that was the threat posed by the lone warhawk that dove in such a height an hour before.

Yukiho didn't mind the gape on her forearm that still spewed crimson through its tanned leather sleeve, paired with the mind numbing sting by a fleshwound on her cheek for all she cared for was to do all it takes to survive this mission and straggle home; no matter how difficult it could be, and by any means necessary.

"Just a little more and I could rest easy."

Soon, the pursuers were nowhere to be found; and the naval ensign had finally reached relative safety in the guise of army Hayabusas, who also braved the incessant barrage of shrapnel laden bombs.

The maiden was amazed at the brightly painted ki-43's, it's torso in a scheme of vivid green with wingtips in yellow, and crimson flaps. But what really caught her sight was its distinct insignia on its tail, a large sun kissed fin that traced its rear aileron and points upward to its tip.

"This logo," She further scanned the nearest craft, and found that it had three red forward pointing chevrons that followed the red sun on its rear fuselage.

"54th sentai, 1st squadron, Imperial Japanese Army Air Force."

Surprised by the sudden appearance of a lone carrier fighter, the wing sergeant immediately cranked the airwaves to life; and after a brief crackle, the redhead's radio blurted with a stark inquiry.

"Identify yourself."

Never wasting another minute as shells crackled about, the foolhardy officer flipped its switch and bluntly replied:

"This is Flight Ensign Yukiho Kousaka of Tainan Air Group."

The army pilot then peered behind its bubble canopy and duly introduced himself with a tenure just as stern as hers.

"Flight Sergeant Tadeo Fukuda of 54th Sentai."

"Fukuda..." She mumbled, then her eyes widened after remembering that Fumiko mentioned about her father working in the army.

"Is there a problem?"

"Nothing, sir."

"What brings you here?"

Kousaka's eyes squinted after his tone deepened, a sign that her presence is not welcomed among the nimble falcons.

But she took a chance with them, and mustered the courage to respond with unfaded resolve.

"I came here to ask for assistance."

"You do not have the right to ask anything from us," He vehemently refused, "We have our objectives, just as you have your own."

"This shouldn't be the time for rivalries," the lass stressed, even if she was pale and distraught from the loss of blood, "We do work under one flag, right?"

The ensign then noticed that something was off, as the fighter squad of three seemed to had been separated from the heavier Toryus they were supposed to protect.

"Besides, we're in the same predicament here. You guys must've also been chased off formation and..."

"It's none of your business." The middle aged man snarled, "We can pull through this without soliciting help from you."

Unfazed by the threat of being blown off the sky from the sheer volume of bofors 20mm, they steadily plotted course amidst deadly blooms of fire and soot; together with the burnt out frames of various craft, that rained all around them in tatters or ablaze.

"Sarge," a wingman interrupted their little standoff, after he spotted an object closing in head on at breakneck speed.

"Looks like we've got company!"

It didn't take long for the unknown craft to reveal which side it belonged to, when it suddenly lets loose of a burst that lit the unlucky Nakajima 43 situated on their far right; then ducked beneath them to evade any retribution, only to surface from a distance and turn for another strafe.

All of them were in shock from the dastardly move, while their ears reverberated with a comrade's agonized shrieks.

"Help!" The unfortunate soul yelped from a cockpit filled with smoke and a tinge of ochre, "I don't want to die just yet! I still want to go home! Let me out of here!"

His desperate pleas were heard in full, but they had nothing left to do but hang their heads with closed eyes, as his aircraft simply nosedived into the void and disintegrated from the sheer speed of its fall.

All of them experienced chills after hearing his voice all garbled and strewn with pain, but with the enemy already on the brink of making another run at them; the veteran decided to take matters into his own hands and ordered the basic airman with him to break rank, in order to confuse their newfound adversary.

"You know what to do, Sawada."

"Yes sir,"

Armed with superior training compared to their commonwealth counterpart, the maneouvre was executed without a hitch; leaving the befuddled Yukiho to remain in place as bait, while they split at opposite directions with darkened patches of smoke to cover their advance.

They were faced with a lone light blue schemed F4F wildcat, an American carrier fighter that came armed with three 50 calibres in each respective wing. It was the mainstay for the American navy stationed in Cavite, a province whose docks were blown to bits a few nights before.

"Sea dog, can you still copy?" Sgt Fukuda radioed in, snapping the strawberry blonde from despair.

Visibly shaken but with bearings intact, she quickly replied to his transmission with a much weakened tone; enfeebled by the loss of warmth which crawled from her fingertips, wrought by the steel spike.

"Y-yes, I can hear you loud... and clear."

A chill was felt soonafter, and it is there she realized that the starboard panel where the throttle, and several switches were all coated in red. Terrified by the sight, Yukiho almost fainted; but was saved from it by a distant memory, a quaint flashback where Honoka's radiant smile burned through the scene of embers, smoke, and blossoming fire.

"Onee-san..."

It was as if she had been plunged into the ocean's murky depths, where only the ginger's voice beckoned; and the rest subjected to a distant blur.

"Yukiho..." The apparition reached out and cupped the child's pale cheeks, muttering a line which the then Lieutenant spoke to her before being sent to serve on Korea.

"Listen to me. Don't you ever give up. Every hardship we face are only trials that test the limits of our strength. There are times when we'll throw the towel and say we're tired, it's done, and it's over... Failing to realize that we're just a step away from achieving what we wished for, if only we believed in ourselves; and pushed through no matter what."

With the words having sung, the apparition of her memories faded; and the young Kousaka returned to a reality where she must think fast, or die trying.

"I wish I had that indomnitable spirit of yours, my dear sister..."

"First things first," The ensign then tended to her wound, by scaling the risks involved on an idea she had spontaneously hatched.

Behind her, the wildcat was on the middle of traversing a very wide curve; due to the bone crushing momentum it had incurred from a shallow angle of attack and a steep evasive maneouvre beforehand, a tedious payoff for a heavy framed craft that relied more on utilizing its weight for an efficient dive.

The falcons remained unseen, and were far from reaching the target; helped in part by the darkness of night, and the veil of virulent smog.

I've already lost so much blood... It's only a matter of time before my body starts shutting down.

Beads of sweat adorned her brows once more, as her hand lets go of the steering rod and carefully untied the scarf that held the damaged limb firmly to its throttle.

But the spike has to go, or I would never be able to stop the bleeding.

Precious seconds ticked by, and to make it worse; another blip of wing mounted lights colored red and yellow on the other appeared from four o clock portside, also in a rush for a swift takedown.

"Damn it, can't I have a bit of peace?!"

With only adrenaline to assist her during this deadly game of cat and mouse, the redhead immediately veered right; barely escaping a mix of tracers and armour piercing rounds from an F4F's heavy machineguns, with the assailant darting past a second later.

"Goddamn yanks," She cussed, and returned to the task at hand; exploiting a window of opportunity that may only last for a minute or so.

But fate was unrelenting towards the vixen with the auburn locks, as a shell detonated right into her rei sen's path; shattering all its canopy's starboard glass, and sent yet another piece of jagged metal to embed itself on the space between her palm's brittle bones.

She screamed with all her might, with hopes dashed by another stray shot. The scarf, a valuable memento of their friendship baptized by fire; was swept through a gap, never to be found nor even replaced.

Her vision turned blurry, all the while looking over a lone piece of cloth that violently wafted through the breeze until it was torn apart by an artillery's shell.

"N-no..." Weary from the battle over Clark, and having sustained wounds her frail mind couldn't comprehend any longer; she grit her teeth as frustration sets in, fuelled by the grievous thought of being a failure and an embarrassment to the family name.

Droplets soon spilt into the creases of her mask; glaring on the dashboard where blots are smeared like a canvas of the macabre, with hopes all but lost and forgotten.

Time seemed to had whittled its pace, while the ginger's heartbeats further intensified; pushed to a threshold by the writhing pangs of pain, and the eerie wind that felt like winter's wrath.

"I feel... numb." She remarked, while wriggling the digits of that one good hand.

"Am I dying? Is... is this how it really feels like?"

While the fuel gauge kept dialling its demise, almost to a quarter of being emptied by the wanton trail that came from its right wing; where only a lucky shot could ignite, and end a career in a cloak of flames.

Then a shadow loomed from behind, and the now disparaged airman knew it could signal the end; as it was no other than the warhawk her kin had so despised. Meanwhile, the first wildcat had returned to take his prize; an officer's head rightfully placed within its sights, coming at her on a low angle that ensured it was swift enough to store momentum to strafe and scoot thereafter.

Reputations aside, the zero; like its army contemporaries, were a much weaker craft in terms of engine performance than what the Americans had in stock. For its workhorse, the Nakajima Sakae 21 was poorly constructed for speed and durability; due to the lack of good alloys and metallurgic industries within the empire's borders. But to make up with this inferiority, all Japanese aircraft of the era sacrificed protection either by armor or self sealing tanks; in the name of its reknowned maneuverability and feared dogfighting capabilities, with the harsh tradeoff of becoming a one shot zippo.

In comparison, the Far East Air Force's Curtiss P36 and 40, with the Navy's Grumman F4F Wildcats were bullet absorbers that could withstand every load their enemy could possibly throw; and keep on flying unless a wing was clipped, engine blown, pilot out of action, or an incendiary round manages to ignite within its rubber lined tank after a hefty load of concentrated bursts. Engine wise, both the Allison and Pratt and Whitney's were very good for high speed performance; ensuring tight turns at speeds exceeding 480 up, with aircraft protected from being torn by drag due to its robust construction.

Yet before the man could let loose of the finishing blow, one of the Hayabusas managed to shadow him mid transit and fired; grazing the pilot's hands by a mere inch, and giving Yukiho ample time to utilize the last bit of strength to enter a dive.

Having his plan foiled by a Ki-43, the man had no choice but to find a way to shake it off his tail; and made a grave mistake of turning sharply to the right, as if he was going to engage him on a dogfight.

With his fate already sealed, and turn easily intercepted with much room for lead and bullet drop compensation on its engine block; the falcon's pilot firmly pressed its button until the pair of cowling mounted 12.5mm Ho-103's flared red, and reduced the pale blue craft to a mere heap of fuming scrap.

"Looks like I've been missing on the fun all this time..." The enemy's ace wried, then set her eyes upon the oblivious jap who had just tallied a kill; swooping down on him like a hawk, and eliminating the competition in a ball of fire after just a few controlled bursts hurled at its rear fuselage.

"Now, time to kill me some zeroes!" She chimed, and continued to retrace the ensign's path through a battlefield strewn with ashen puffs.

Meanwhile, down below; almost 2500ft above the roaring guns, Lt. Kousaka's worn airframe hovered in hopes of finding a more suitable target to vent her rage.

Scanning through scattered anti air emplacements and searchlights that bristled at the fringes of large field facilities, she geared herself for a final lashing against the far east forces; with aquamarines glued on a battered section of runway where defenders ran feverishly while carrying crates of ammunition.

"Their armoury must be close by..." Then with one quick roll through the panorama of embers and pillars of smoke, a smile was drawn across her paled lips; as the trail of what looked to be specs of dust ended at a hangar roughly the size of a matchbox, protected by a myriad of machinegun armed trucks placed on the opposite edges of its meandering boulevard.

"This is it," The redhead took a solemn bow as her end drew near. "This is the only way I could redeem my family name."

Reaching for a pocket, the foolhardy aviator took the only thing that reminded her of home; a watch her father gave during graduation from flight school, where the words "calm spirit" and "safe passage" were etched on its polished surface.

Yukiho then clutched it close to her chest and cried, knowing that she'll miss all those times she had with the ones she loved; including her sister who seemed to had grown distant after taking on a childhood dream.

"I am sorry, but I had already come to terms with it." After which, she wiped off; and tied the piece on the crosshair's base to never lose sight of it, until the very end.

Her hand shivered while it lowered its thrust, bleeding relentlessly; with no hopes whittling down.

Nerves were already drowned in adrenaline, and all that's left to be felt were a foreign objects potruding from skin and bone.

"Strength, don't fail me now... give me one last ounce of it before I go down."

A beam of light then struck its greyish hide, ground crews enthralled by a lone zero; descending with red suns all bare.

Batteries were turned to counter the threat, but were already too late; as their fuses were tweaked to blow past the four second mark.

"Take this and suffer!" The redhead scoffed, leaving them a flurry of shots that kicked dust and debris as it went; tearing through metal, and dismembering flesh.

Men fled the scene, never to look back; horrified by the jumbled sight of steel and gore. While the officer succeeded on knocking a nest out of action, then pulled up just before small arms fire grazed its alloy clad form.

Machineguns buzzed and chucked tracers against its fragile frame, but speed was her greatest asset; zipping unharmed above makeshift emplacements made of dirt, with shots landing a mile off its tail.

Their ears rang with the loud roar of its engine, sending them into a frenzy; shooting at it with all they got, including antiquated revolvers and the cumbersome bolt action rifle.

Everything that lay in the way of Clark's armory were targets waiting to be annihilated, and made no discrimination between man or machine; for as long as they stood there, it's as good as dead.

The rei sen's cannons rattled about, expending rounds that hissed as it flew; while the less powerful yet plentiful .303 thumped on its cowling like an orchestra of snares, both hellbent on making the receiving end have a taste of what fury its user had.

The barren asphalt became littered with the remains of whom she fell, the dead and wounded mixed in a field of red; soldiers who had heeded the call to defend their motherland from an empire's advance, children whose mothers will never see again.

But for Yukiho whose hand is behind their demise, it was all in the name of the Kousaka's honor; not for some ideals taught within the four corners of a classroom, nor for a ruler whose eyes didn't see the true nature of their struggle.

There seemed to be no turning back from that point on, for the ammunition dump's massive doorway loomed at the dashboard; with sensitive contents in full view,locked in stacks of olive green boxes and mahogany crates.

"I'll do what it takes to cripple this enemy's resolve," the ensign then pushed the throttle with all her might, "even if I'll have to ram it with this goddamned plane!"

Sensing that there was no use of defending the already doomed storehouse, some trucks repositioned far to the rear; while those that remained wrought a barrage of lead against the bull headed aviator, who simply flew lower than their guns could bear to the point that it almost touched the ground.

"It's over now." She then expended the last few rounds of its type 99 mk. 1 cannon, and continued to pound with its type 97's; breaking some boxes effortlessly, but without the desired explosion.

With only a few hundred metres to spare, the young Kousaka sibling took the chance to adjust her craft for the intended suicide attack; when out of the blue, caliber 50's in orange tracers snapped its left wing.

"What?!"

Her craft was then sent to a violent cartwheel through Clark's ravaged airfield, shedding bits of duralumin sheets and luminescent sparks; while its right wing was first bent during the ordeal, before being thrown into the sidelines after a few remorseless spins.

With the wings all gone, the aircraft was slammed on its belly; knocking the barely conscious lass cold, and separated the tail from its fuselage.

It was the end of her career, as the craft was put to a standstill just a few feet shy of her intended target; ablaze, and cloaked in a thick veil of smoke.

She, like many others; was yet another killmark for the Italian, who then carried on to defend the base from further attacks that fateful night.

---

It was already three in the morning when the last Navy Air Service bomber made its pass, and every officer in Sonoda's operations group waited anxiously on the airwaves for the names of those who never made it home.

Umi on the other hand was on the middle of a briefing with two new ensigns dressed in black regalia, one being the designated leader of a gunboat; and the other, a staff member whose expertise lies in naval artillery.

Each of them were excellent on their chosen fields, and the bluenet couldn't help but examine the marauder's lieutenant; a gal who possessed an uncanny resemblance, except for the deep violet orbs that defiantly stared against her own.

She was to be sent to assist the landings in Aparri within two day's time, while the one with coal black hair and malice filled turquoises was to oversee operations on Nobunaga's battery no. 3; the largest of the three casemated guns situated before its bridge.

After a few moments of exchanging stares, she dismissed them from her office for which they rendered a salute before leave; and gazed by the window that overlooked the decks where her loyal marines were assembled, and awaited instructions from their green clad superiors.

"I used to be the one waiting for orders down there," the Colonel mused, "And boy, time flies so fast."

Then a few knocks echoed, which she divulged; and in came a messenger, all pale and tired.

"Speak."

The man then passed the terrible news, after which the bluenet's composure was wiped off; replaced with grief for a fallen friend, and Honoka's dearest sister.

"You may now go." She then turned to watch the soldiers marching back to their barracks, unable to hide the tears that dripped from such a stone cold guise.

The messenger took a pause and bowed, before he went his way and closed it with great care; so not to raise the ire of the gargoyle who lamented on someone's untimely passing.

"What can I do?" She narrowed her brows to a reflection cast upon its glass, "I can't just tell her that Yukiho's gone..."

Having mustered a course of action, Colonel Sonoda removed any signs of sadness and reverted to the mask of a heartless commander; one who is determined to achieve the empire's goals no matter what it takes, or whatever the cost.

"The last thing I want is a disheartened general, or the probability of losing a friend from suicide."

With that said, she wore the senior officer's peaked cap; a mark of authority personified by a wreathed anchor on blue sash trimmed with gold rope, and laurels etched on its visor.

"I'm sorry, Honoka. But this is for your own good."

---

Last note: I really found it difficult to describe aerial battles, it's so fluid and dynamic that I can't keep up and sapped my choice of words!