Chapter Three: Shunichi Maki

As Tetsuya waited in anticipation, time slipped by swiftly, and three months had passed before he knew it.

Air Self-Defense Force, Hyakuri Base.

The airport bathed in the sunset looked serene and beautiful. Every so often, a fighter jet would take off, slicing the air with a roaring wind. Most of the jets, however, were parked on the tarmac, being meticulously examined by technicians. For a fighter jet, even the slightest malfunction could lead to irreparable loss—every takeoff was a perilous journey, and every maintenance check was indispensable.

“This week is finally our last one, isn’t it?” Kurashima looked at his teammates with a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

“It is…”

“Shunichi Maki, you’re a born Falcon pilot—are you really set on retiring?” Kurashima asked, unable to hide his reluctance. He had always admired Maki’s flying skills, and to have such a person as a partner was a rare fortune.

“My mind is made up.” Maki’s gaze fell upon the fighter jet parked nearby. Though there was a trace of regret in his eyes, his resolve was unwavering.

“Besides…” Maki glanced toward a man in the distance, silhouetted by the setting sun and waving at them. “If anyone is the true born Falcon pilot, it should be Tetsuya.”

As Tetsuya approached, he noticed both of them grinning at him, their expressions inscrutable. He felt a little uneasy and said, “You guys aren’t cooking up anything bad for me, are you…”

Maki chuckled, punched Tetsuya lightly, and said helplessly, “What are you talking about? You always jump to the wildest conclusions.”

Tetsuya gave Maki a look of mock grievance. “You’re one to talk, Maki. Wasn’t it your idea to try and set me up on a blind date? I can’t even imagine it. Think of the trauma you’d cause young Nemoto if he knew his dad moonlighted as a matchmaker!”

He exaggeratedly mimicked, “Oh, my dad is a great fighter pilot! Oh wait… he’s a matchmaker—a fighter pilot among matchmakers!”

Maki burst out laughing. “What on earth are you saying? You’re nearly twenty-eight and still breezing through life without a care—don’t you think about your future?”

Kurashima chimed in, joining Maki in teasing Tetsuya, “Yeah, at your age I already had a few kids!”

Tetsuya pursed his lips and replied resignedly, “You two have some nerve. Every holiday, you’re both wrapped around your wives and kids. Look at me—carefree, unfettered, feeding myself and no one else.”

“Shh… don’t you ever feel lonely being by yourself?” Kurashima asked.

Tetsuya paused, saying nothing. It was true—this was the root of his difficulty in truly belonging in this world. That loneliness came from another world, another country—a solitude imprinted on his soul, impossible to erase.

Maki threw an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, man. Hurry up and find someone to marry. It might even mellow out that wild streak of yours.”

Tetsuya shrugged. When he thought of women, the image that came to mind was Sharo Mizuhara—a woman whose face was perpetually serious. He wondered what she’d look like if she smiled; she’d probably be stunning.

“Hey—someone’s got a crush!” Kurashima joked.

“What are you talking about!” Tetsuya chased after him, intent on teaching him a lesson, but Takuto deftly dodged his reach. The three of them wrestled and laughed, their shadows stretching long in the evening light.

“I’ve found that when I’m with Tetsuya, I lose all the maturity I’m supposed to have as a man in his thirties. I feel like a kid again,” Kurashima said later, his eyes crinkling with laughter as he lounged on the sofa in the break room. Being with Tetsuya made it easy to relax, to momentarily lay down the burdens of family and children.

“Yeah, Tetsuya isn’t just a brilliant pilot—he’s a great friend, too,” Maki agreed, recalling the absurdity of introducing Tetsuya on a blind date.

“By the way, how’s Nemoto doing? How old is he now? It’s been ages since I last saw him.”

Maki fell silent for a moment. “He’ll be six in two months.”

“Time truly flies,” Kurashima sighed. “That birthday party where we all drank together till dawn feels like it happened just yesterday.”

“Hah, listen to the old man waxing nostalgic. The older you get, the faster time seems to go.” Tetsuya teased, handing them two coffees.

“Oh, you brat—calling me middle-aged, are you trying to get yourself killed?” Kurashima pretended to be offended, but he couldn’t help breaking into laughter, and soon all three were chuckling together.

As the laughter faded, Kurashima grew serious. “Maki, aren’t we special? We’re the best of the best. Three hundred sixty-five days a year, thirty thousand feet above the earth, enduring 6.56 Gs of force. We live to fly these jets—aren’t we remarkable?”

Maki was silent, and Tetsuya, sitting nearby with his coffee, said nothing either. Yet in their hearts, they silently agreed. The hours they’d spent in the cockpit outnumbered those with their families. They soared through the skies, protecting the heavens—a calling that set them apart.

Kurashima turned to Maki, asking solemnly, “Are you really not going to regret leaving all this behind?”

Maki said nothing. Tetsuya spoke quietly, “It’s because of Nemoto, isn’t it, Maki? He’ll be alright…”

Maki’s son, Nemoto, had been diagnosed with a disease that might prevent him from ever growing old enough to choose his own dreams. Tetsuya, being close to the family, knew the hard truth—even a year was an optimistic estimate. Lost in thought, Tetsuya slid his hand into his pocket, feeling the mysterious crystal he kept there. Suddenly, a wild idea flickered in his mind. Modern medicine could do nothing for Nemoto, but… what if he used light?

As Tetsuya pondered, Maki, head bowed, spoke in a low voice. Looking at Kurashima with a tinge of sorrow, he said, “I’ve accomplished my dreams. Now, I just want to spend more time with my son. With my family… as much as I can.”

His words had barely faded when a shrill alarm blared, abruptly cutting Maki off and snapping Tetsuya from his thoughts. The three men instantly became alert, shot to their feet, and sprinted outside. As fighter pilots, they recognized that sound all too well—it was an emergency scramble order, only issued in the gravest situations.

Night had already fallen, but with the alarm, personnel poured from the break room. The hangar doors swung open, and teams of ground crew hurried to prepare the jets.

Guided by ground staff waving illuminated batons, the fighters were rolled out of the hangar one by one.

The full moon hung in the sky as three F-15s taxied down the runway and, under cover of darkness, thundered skyward, vanishing into the vast night.

“March 19, distance to target: zero seven zero one one five miles.”

Hearing the command through their headsets, all three replied crisply, “Roger.”

In the boundless night sky, the trio of F-15s streaked through the clouds like shooting stars, flying straight toward their objective.

Tetsuya felt the crystal in his pocket grow warmer, his eyes burning with intensity. Ever since he’d taken off, the crystal’s temperature had been rising—a sign he could not ignore. He realized that the light he sought was growing ever nearer.