+++0900 hours
++Territory of the Unified Front of China
++Harbin, Heilongjiang Province
++Continental Expeditionary Force Headquarters
Colonel Hoshino Ryuji sat behind a metal desk, a pile of reports neatly stacked beside him. His uniform barely pressed and wrinkled. He glanced up as Takeru approached, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly before he reached out and took the report from Takeru's outstretched hand.
For a moment, there was only the sound of the paper rustling as Colonel Hoshino flipped through the pages, his expression unreadable. Finally, he set the report down, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
"I had my doubts," Hoshino began, his voice low and measured, "when the IRG whose concerns should be about the mainland decided to send a company of newly commissioned Surface pilots in untested domestic machines."
His gaze lifted, locking onto Takeru with an intensity that belied his otherwise calm demeanor. "But it seems they weren't just sending you to your deaths for political reasons."
Takeru's expression remained frozen, a mask of impassivity he'd perfected over countless timelines and battles. He neither flinched nor spoke, letting the silence stretch between them like a taut wire.
Hoshino leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, his fingers still steepled. "Let's be clear, Captain Shirogane. Your company was a gamble. The IRG's little experiment. I had serious doubts Horn Company would amount to more than a footnote in this war."
Takeru moved then, placing his palm flat on the desk, his fingers splayed. It wasn't an aggressive gesture, but it was firm, deliberate. Hoshino's eyes flicked to the hand, trying to read the intent behind it.
Takeru's voice, when it came, was cold and precise.
"The BETA will not stop until they reach Krasnoyarsk and Dunhuang. You, and many others, still believe we can contain them. But let's not pretend, Colonel." He leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing. "We're only a day away from the Corridor. If they breach Lake Baikal and push into eastern Siberia, the Continental Expeditionary Force will be forced to retreat—slowly, painfully—back to the Korean Peninsula."
Takeru's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of truth.
"Let's stop pretending we aren't just here to buy time."
Hoshino stared at him for a long moment, his expression shifting from annoyance to something resembling grudging respect. Then he let out a wry laugh, shaking his head.
"I'm glad the IRG sent their best," he muttered. "Horn Company has been thoroughly baptized. They might've doubted you in Tianjin, but after that fight? Who would?"
The Colonel's gaze sharpened. "Now, the real question—what do you want from me, Captain Shirogane Takeru?"
Takeru tapped a single finger rhythmically against the desk. The sound echoed in the otherwise quiet room, a metronome counting down to his next words. When he finally spoke, his tone was unwavering.
"I want full control."
Hoshino's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
Takeru didn't hesitate. "I believe the Kagerous are a dead-end unit. They're underperforming compared to what's needed on this front. But regardless, I want Horn Company to continue operating without intervention from the Continental Expeditionary Force. We're attached, yes, but we've proven we can fight."
Hoshino chuckled, a low sound that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Don't get cocky, Captain. You've only survived two battles."
Takeru's gaze didn't waver. "And we survived the last one without support or backup. You had full access to our datalink. You know how it went down." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Colonel Hoshino, do you honestly believe my men would have survived without my directions?"
The colonel blinked, his smirk fading slightly. He didn't answer immediately.
"No," Hoshino admitted finally, his voice quieter. "I don't think they would have."
Takeru nodded. "Then you understand why I'm making this request. The CEF has no jurisdiction over the IRG. We're an independent guard unit, answering only to the Shogun and the Ministry of Defense. We're here as a symbol of goodwill and for an experiment. And yet here I am because you can do something for me."
Hoshino's jaw tightened. His fingers drummed against the desk before he leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing.
"I see. You want me to keep Lt. Colonel Michael Reynolds and Colonel Wei Jian off your back?"
Takeru's expression didn't change. "Yes. We're in their territory. The machines need testing, and they want results. The Imperial Ministry of Defense still has a lingering resentment over the F-4 supply issue. If we want to thrive, we need to develop and produce TSFs domestically. Our results here are crucial to that."
Hoshino let out a slow breath, staring at Takeru as if seeing him for the first time.
"I've been in this war for years," he said quietly, "but you, Captain… you're something alright, telling me this straight to my face."
Takeru's fist clenched, his eyes flashing with a sudden, dangerous intensity.
"You misunderstand me, Colonel." His voice dropped, cold as steel. "Everything I do is for the sake of humanity's survival — for the Empire and its people. I don't care about your political games. I don't need power or wealth that I already have. All I want is to ensure we have a future."
Hoshino raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Not good enough."
Without another word, Takeru slid a document across the desk. Hoshino's curiosity got the better of him, and he picked it up, eyes scanning the contents. As he read, his expression shifted from skepticism to something more serious.
"It seems you have talents in other sectors as well, Captain," Hoshino muttered, setting the paper down.
Takeru allowed himself a slight smile. "As you can see, I've opened a new road for myself. Give me four more years, and procuring parts for the Empire's TSFs will be as simple as making a call."
Hoshino's eyes narrowed. "That's if you survive this front."
Takeru shrugged. "Dead or not, the foundation will stand. All I ask from you, Colonel, is a little cooperation."
For a long moment, Hoshino didn't speak. The two men simply stared at each other, a silent battle of wills.
Finally, Hoshino leaned forward, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Alright, Captain Shirogane. You'll have your autonomy. I'll keep them from asking too much."
Takeru's smile widened, but it never reached his eyes. "Thank you for your cooperation, Colonel."
With that, he turned on his heel and left the tent, the flaps rustling shut behind him.
Colonel Hoshino sat back in his chair, letting out a long sigh. He rubbed his temples, muttering under his breath.
"These nobles," he grumbled. "They really are a different breed."
But even as he said it, he couldn't shake the feeling that Shirogane Takeru wasn't just another noble playing at war.
No, there was something else driving him.
Something that made even seasoned veterans like Hoshino uneasy.
The hum of hydraulic lifts sounded through the cavernous hangar as Takeru stepped inside, his boots clicking against the polished floor. The scent of lubricant, burnt metal, and hydraulic fluid mingled in the air, familiar and oddly comforting.
Twelve Type-89/F-15Js stood like silent sentinels, their massive frames gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. Mechanics in oil-streaked overalls moved between them, their voices a low murmur punctuated by the hiss of compressed air and the occasional clang of metal on metal.
At the center of it all, Kazuma Jin, the lead mechanic, was barking orders at a group of techs hunched over one of the Kagerou's open panels. His sharp eyes caught Takeru's approach, and he immediately snapped to attention, offering a crisp salute.
"Captain Shirogane."
Takeru returned the salute with a slight nod, his gaze sweeping across the hangar before settling back on Kazuma.
"How are things, Kazuma?"
Kazuma wiped a smear of grease from his cheek, his expression a mix of pride and lingering concern.
"The refurbished units are holding out well," Kazuma began, gesturing toward the nearest TSF. "We've modified them to handle close-quarters dogfighting. The endurance of the airframe and joints that have improved with the new materials we integrated are doing A-okay. The buffering tension in the carbonic actuators held up under strain, and the mount pylons we redesigned for the Type 87 Assault Cannons haven't shown any signs of malfunction. These machines… they can handle a fight alright."
But Takeru caught the hesitation in Kazuma's voice, the subtle shift in his tone. He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms behind his back.
"And?"
Kazuma sighed, running a hand through his grease-slicked hair.
"From the data you gave me, Captain… the mass production of the F-15Js is going to drop off soon even if we do this. I'm starting to wonder if testing these machines is even worth it anymore. Shouldn't we had jumped to the next unit instead?"
Takeru's gaze hardened, his posture straightening as he took a step closer to Kazuma. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. A quiet authority that made the other mechanics pause in their work to listen.
"They are worth it," Takeru said firmly. "We're not just 'testing' these machines, Kazuma. We're gathering data from the frontlines. Data that will pave the way for future surface pilots."
He gestured toward the TSFs around them.
"This isn't just about proving the Kagerous can fight. It's about showing the world that the Empire can develop and produce TSFs domestically. We're not just riding on the backs of the UN or the East Defense Line. We're proving that the Empire can stand on its own, that we can fight the BETA on our terms."
Kazuma nodded slowly, though the uncertainty hadn't entirely left his eyes. Takeru followed his gaze toward a group of mechanics in the far corner of the hangar, their overalls stained with tar, lubricant, and blood. Some of them were unfamiliar faces, likely transferred from units that hadn't been as fortunate as Horn Company.
"I see the CEF took a hit," Takeru remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Kazuma sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"They did. A lot of machines didn't survive the last push. It's probably why they're not glaring at us so much anymore, Captain. You and Horn Company held out against a thousand BETA without backup. They had support, but they still couldn't defend Xining."
Takeru's brow furrowed, a flash of irritation crossing his face.
"Xining fell already?"
Kazuma shook his head.
"Not yet. They managed to suppress the BETA in Haidong City for now. But more are pouring out of Kashgar, and they're still heading toward the Gansu Corridor." He hesitated, his gaze flicking back to Takeru. "There's talk they might push toward Ömnögovi Province in southern Mongolia. If they use that route, they could flank Gansu. Do you think that's possible, Captain?"
Takeru could hear the worry in Kazuma's voice.
"It wouldn't surprise me if they did," Takeru admitted quietly. "Seven hundred kilometers isn't a big deal for the BETA. If they're heading for Siberia, some of them will eventually spill over and head to Gansu instead."
He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"At this rate, we'll be unable to hold the line here."
Kazuma nodded grimly, his eyes flicking back to the blood-caked Kagerou that Takeru had piloted. The machine was being hosed down, streams of BETA gore and viscera pooling on the hangar floor before being collected in carts for disposal.
Kazuma shook his head, chuckling bitterly.
"You know, Captain, you really need to stop turning off the safety protocols."
Takeru smirked, a rare flicker of amusement in his otherwise stoic demeanor.
"Does it really matter with my kind of piloting?"
Kazuma shot him an irritated look.
"It matters when you're pulling maneuvers that should have shredded the actuators and snapped the joints in half. But somehow, the your TSF is still functioning without a hitch." He let out a short laugh. "Sakai and the rest of the company are still trying to figure out how the hell you do it."
Takeru raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly.
"Maybe they're willing to learn now that they know who's the top dog."
Kazuma laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time since Takeru had arrived.
"After what you guys went through? They're starting to see you as the real deal now, Captain."
Takeru's expression softened slightly.
"Even the stubborn ones?"
Kazuma nodded, his grin widening.
"Even them. They felt ashamed they couldn't keep up with you. Had to apologize to us for their recklessness. "
Takeru's smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression.
"That's good. I need them to do better — especially with how things are going."
Kazuma nodded, clapping his own shoulder and massaging it.
"You got that right, Captain. That's all for now, Captain."
"Good work, Kazuma."
Kazuma went back to work and started barking orders.
Takeru stood near the observation deck, his gaze sweeping over the scene below. Rows of TSF were idled. Some charred, others missing limbs, and many simply beyond recognition — lined the maintenance bays like wounded soldiers in a field hospital. Mechanics moved between them like battlefield medics, their faces drawn, clothes stained with oil, blood, and BETA viscera.
The Imperial Japanese Forces' units, nestled awkwardly among the UN and Unified Front of China machines, were in a depressing state. The Gekishins bore the scars of battle, their armor plates dented and scratched from their encounter with the BETA.
Takeru's eyes narrowed, his mind drifting to memories he wished he could forget. As far as he recalled, the Continental Expeditionary Force was destined for annihilation. After the fall of Eurasia, the remnants of this once-proud force would be transferred to the Mainland, scattered like ashes in the wind.
But this time…
This time, he had a goal.
Takeru knew that for his plans to succeed, the CEF needed to survive. As many Eishis as possible had to make it out alive. The future of the Empire and perhaps humanity itself depended on it. It would take a colossal effort, more than just strategy and skill. It would take control.
Takeru needed a hand in the CEF's operations, not just to influence the front lines but to position them for future mainland and foreign missions. He couldn't afford to let history repeat itself. Especially now that he was given time.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the metal corridor, and a familiar voice broke through Takeru's thoughts.
"Man, you really know how to keep things interesting, Captain."
Jun Sakai strolled up beside him, hand resting on his hip. His usual smirk was plastered across his face, though his eyes betrayed a weariness that even humor couldn't mask.
"Reckless as always."
Takeru glanced at him but didn't reply immediately. Below, a group of IJF Surface Pilots noticed their presence and snapped to attention, offering crisp salutes. Takeru returned the gesture with a nod, his expression unreadable.
Sakai let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as they turned back to the hangar floor.
"You see that?" he said, gesturing toward the saluting pilots. "I hate how they suddenly changed their tune. Treated us like a joke when we got here. Now look at them."
His voice dropped slightly, the humor fading from his tone.
"But you know what really pisses me off?" he muttered. "It's that so many of them died before we could prove that we're not just some nepo-babies playing soldier. They doubted us in Tianjin, but now?" He snorted. "Now none of them can even look us in the eye without being reminded that unlike them we got our asses out of the fire without losing anyone."
Sakai shot Takeru a sidelong glance, a crooked grin spreading across his face.
"And it's all thanks to you, Captain."
Takeru's lips twitched, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Yes, it is."
Sakai burst out laughing, clapping Takeru on the shoulder.
"Damn, you've got a big head already!"
Takeru shrugged, his smirk widening slightly.
"I need a big head if I want to thrive here."
But the levity didn't last. Sakai's laughter faded, replaced by a more serious expression. He leaned against the railing, staring out over the battered TSFs below.
"What do you think about Gansu?" he asked quietly. "You think it'll hold?"
Takeru's smirk vanished, his gaze hardening.
"It won't. I doubt it."
The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Sakai didn't argue. He just sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Then where do you think we'll make an effort?" he asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.
Takeru's eyes darkened.
"Hebei Province. Inner Mongolia." His voice was low, steady. "That's where the real nightmares will begin."
Sakai let out a long, slow breath, his shoulders sagging under the weight of Takeru's words. He glanced back at the mechanics bustling around their machines, his expression softening.
"Poor Kazuma and the crew," he muttered. "They're gonna have their work cut out for them."
Takeru chuckled, the sound dry and humorless.
"Then we better treat them like gods, then. Without them… we won't be able to fight."
Sakai groaned, shaking his head.
"Ridiculous," he grumbled. "But… you're not wrong. Our lives are in their hands as much I hate to admit it."
They stood in silence for a while, the noise of the hangar fading into the background. Takeru's mind drifted, replaying battles from both this timeline and others. The faces of fallen comrades, the weight of decisions made and unmade.
He knew what was coming. The BETA wouldn't stop. The fall of Eurasia was only the beginning. But maybe... just maybe.. if he could change enough pieces, save enough people, he could alter the course of history.
But that meant more than just surviving.
It meant leading.
It meant carrying the weight of every decision, every life, on his shoulders.
"Come on, Sakai," Takeru finally said, pushing off the railing. "We've got work to do."
Sakai nodded, falling into step beside him.
"Yeah… we do."