Propeller Opera

Izaya, will you marry me?

The boy suddenly made the proposal to the girl beside him.

. . . ?

The girl halted, turning to him with a puzzled look on her face.

They were surrounded by the lush green embankment, a vibrant river flowing nearby, and the sunset painting the western sky in warm hues.

The two of them were on their way home, having just slipped away from the attendant who had come to pick them up after school. The boy's sudden marriage proposal left the girl bewildered.

Right now?

There's no rush. It can be in eight years. In our country, individuals can enter into a marriage contract at eighteen.

I see.

The girl looked down, lost in thought for a moment, then set her lips in a firm line and raised her gaze, her expression turning serious.

Kuroto, are you saying you're in love with me?

Clad in a white shirt with suspenders holding up his shorts and a black schoolbag slung over his shoulder, Kuroto Kuronomiya from Kitagawa Royal Academy kept his hands on the straps of his bag as he responded.

Don't get the wrong idea. I don't harbor any romantic feelings for you.

Hmph.

Izaya, the first princess of Shironomiya, who appeared far more mature than her years, replied shortly. She raised her chin with her thumb and index finger, her silvery hair—the rarest of hues among the Hinoh people—swaying gently in the evening breeze. Her attire—a white shirt with a ribbon at the collar, a navy skirt, and a pink backpack—was simple, but her composure suggested an inner strength.

They had been playmates for as long as they could remember. Izaya and Kuroto were both distantly related royals, each possessing unique abilities common to their nobility.

Kuroto, with his exceptional intelligence, spoke like a thirty-five-year-old man even at ten. Izaya, gifted with the ability to freely detach her perspective from herself, had a distinct way of viewing the world. It was difficult for them to make age-appropriate friends, so naturally, they spent a lot of time together.

However, they weren't close enough for Izaya to expect a sudden marriage proposal.

Why do you want to marry me if you're not in love with me?

You're asking a lot of questions. What's the issue?

Because this is a matter that will affect my entire life.

Kuroto rubbed the back of his head in irritation and shrugged.

I'm destined to be this nation's Emperor.

. . .

But being from the collateral line of the Kuronomiya family means the throne will likely pass to my brother, Kazuma.

. . .

However, if I marry you, and find a way to displace Kazuma, I could ascend to the throne.

. . .

I don't want you. I want your lineage. Marry me, Izaya, and I'll become the Emperor.

Kuroto . . .

Yeah?

A sharp sound echoed across the embankment.

Kuroto's head whipped sharply to the right. As the same sound echoed again, his head intensely snapped to the left.

After delivering a picture-perfect double slap to Kuroto’s face, Izaya pulled her right knee up to her chest and aimed the sole of her shoe at his midsection.

Here's your answer.

A dull thud sounded as Kuroto momentarily went airborne before crashing back-first into the embankment's slope.

Izaya, her expression icy, watched as Kuroto tumbled down the embankment. With his backpack still on, he ricocheted erratically left and right before coming to a halt at the base of the slope, lying on his back, staring blankly into the sky.

Stay away from me, you lowlife!

She straightened her back and roared.

I don't consider you a friend, or even family anymore. If you dare approach me, I'll kill you!

Overflowing with the dignity of Hinoh's first princess, Izaya reduced Kuroto, a son of the imperial family, to a mere servant. She adjusted the backpack straps in her hands and ran, fueled by her anger.

Ugh! That idiot!

While running, she looked up at the twilight sky, hurling insults.

You're the worst! Absolutely terrible! The most despicable guy in all of Hinoh!

Tears began to stream down her face.

Frustrated, she wiped her eyes with her arm, shouting profanities until her voice was hoarse. She kept running until her tears ceased.

Damn you, Kuroto! Drop dead, you asshole!

She screamed into the sunset, hoping her tears would cease.

Ugh . . .

The spinning scenery came to a halt, and Kuroto found himself lying in a field of weeds by the riverbank, gazing up at the sky bathed in a deep red hue.

. . .

Groaning, he pushed himself up and cast his gaze to the top of the embankment.

There was nobody in sight. He winced in pain as he rose to his feet and readjusted the twisted backpack on his back.

Damn her . . . She's so quick to resort to violence . . .

After experiencing firsthand the menacing front kick of an enraged powerful woman that had sent him rolling down the embankment, he clambered back up the slope to the top of the levee. However, there was no trace of Izaya to be found.

The summer breeze, laced with the scent of fresh grass, quietly swept across the landscape.

Stay away from me, you lowlife!

Only Izaya's words lingered, echoing in his ears.

I just don't understand why she would possibly reject me . . .

He simply couldn't comprehend Izaya's thinking. The idea that someone could reject a proposal from a man of such superior intellect, noble lineage, and good looks—was beyond belief. Was she insane? This was Kuroto's first taste of failure in life, and he was at a loss on how to deal with it.

Containing his frustration, he dusted the grass off his uniform and made his way home alone.

How should he confront Izaya at school tomorrow? Should he question her about her rejection, or reproach her for her sudden violence? While he grappled with these concerns and tried to predict her reactions, formulating strategies on how to handle them, Izaya didn't show up at school for three days.

Three nights after the proposal, Kuroto still hadn't seen Izaya.

Genzaburo Kazenomiya, the king's younger brother, unexpectedly arrived at the Kuronomiya residence, accompanied by high-ranking officials from the Imperial Household Department. He accused the family head, Takehiko, of . . .

. . . intending to usurp the throne from the Kuronomiya family.

A recorded conversation from a dinner, during which Takehiko and his wife, Kaoruko, had encouraged Kuroto, was presented as evidence.

Marry Izaya and displace Kazuma.

This recording, along with the fact that Kuroto had actually proposed to Izaya, became the decisive factor, leaving Takehiko with no defense.

The following day, Takehiko formally renounced his position in the royal registry of the Kuronomiya family.

He shortened his surname to Kurono, packed his belongings, and relocated to his secondary residence in Kamakura.

It was actually the fallout from a "major treason incident" stirred up by the Kuronomiya family, rather than what newspapers, magazines, and the radio portrayed as . . .

Had the full details been made public, it would have been considered a capital offense—essentially a national rebellion. In reality, it was a coerced "dismantling of the family" suggested by the royal family.

A month later . . .

Headlines from popular magazines, published by major newspapers, proclaimed:

The Heinous Treason of the Kurono Family

The Deplorable Scheme to Overthrow Hinoh, Targeting Princess Izaya

These articles quickly circulated throughout Hinoh, revealing that the Kurono Family had not left the royal registry voluntarily. Instead, they had been exposed for plotting to infiltrate the direct lineage of the royal family and seize the throne.

The informant was a traitorous servant, who, after being cold-shouldered by Takehiko and Kaoruko, had secretly conspired with the royal family. Over an extended period, he had secretly recorded conversations at the Kurono residence using a small microphone, eventually selling the recordings to the newspaper.

Accusations of Disrespectful Language Toward His Majesty

Schemes to Sideline the Crown Prince and Crown Their Legitimate Son, Kuroto

Plans to Propose to Princess Izaya with the Throne in Sight

This sensational news spread like wildfire, with follow-up articles continuing to emerge. Within a week of the first release, nearly every citizen of Hinoh’s 80,000,000 population had heard about the "major treason by the Kuronomiya family," transforming it into a historically infamous scandal.

Day and night, reporters and onlookers swarmed the Kuronomiya residence in Kamakura, hurling insults without regard for the time of day.

Traitor!

Anti-patriot!

Sellout!

Kaoruko shoved divorce papers at Takehiko, forcing him to sign them. At thirty-one, she was still young enough to start a new life without her child. Kuroto watched his mother leave without showing any particular emotion.

Even after her departure, the crowd continued to hurl harsh words at their house daily. Simultaneously, the media broadcasted a relentless mix of truths and falsehoods about the Kuronomiya family across print and radio.

Takehiko was also backed into a corner. The friends he once relied on now avoided any association with the disgraced family, and the media and the mob were the only visitors to the Kuronomiya residence.

Kuroto, should we commit suicide?

In response to his father’s weak suggestion, strained by his sunken cheeks and unkempt beard, Kuroto wore an ambitious expression.

We should abandon this country and relocate to the United States of Gameria.

Observing his ten-year-old son’s unwavering confidence, even in such dire circumstances, Takehiko tilted his head in suspicion as Kuroto smirked.

I’ve heard it’s a land of freedom and equality. They say even a commoner can rise to the presidency, provided they have talent. It’s far more progressive than this kingdom, where only royalty can ascend to the throne. It seems like a place where we could live with dignity.

Hearing Kuroto's words, Takehiko's mouth fell open as he murmured.

Gameria . . .

He murmured before sinking into a deep thought.

The United States of Gameria—a global powerhouse situated across the Grand Duchy Ocean.

A constitutional democracy that values freedom and equality. A nation of immigrants, welcoming all races. A military behemoth with robust ambitions for territorial expansion, gradually establishing its stronghold across the seas.

So, is Kuroto considering migrating to the country expected to wage war against Hinoh in the near future?

I've heard that Gameria harbors ill feelings towards Hinoh . . .

We'll undoubtedly face bias. But we have wealth. In their nation, money can buy rank and prestige. It may be a gentler place for those with wealth.

As Kuroto’s words accumulated, a new spark of hope kindled in Takehiko’s eyes. The plan to emigrate, which had seemed unfeasible, now appeared more plausible than the family’s inevitable downfall.

You're right. We may have lost our standing, but we still have wealth. Let's go there and make a living by investing.

Takehiko’s words carried a glimmer of optimism for the first time in a while. Kuroto, however, wore his usual unperturbed smile—a smile that conveyed maturity beyond his years.

If we hesitate, relations could deteriorate, and free travel might be restricted. If we’re going, we should leave now. In a place where no one knows us, we can simply be affluent.

With that firm declaration, Kuroto turned his gaze toward the window. With his father’s encouragement, a burning ambition rose within him.

We'll claw our way back up.

To his surprise, Kuroto felt exhilarated. While he had made enemies of 80,000,000 citizens of Hinoh, it was this very situation that spurred him into action.

Isn't this the perfect opportunity to test my abilities?

He knew of his exceptional memory and deductive skills. His performance at the Kitagawa Royal Academy had been remarkable, earning him the title of the youngest-ever Esteemed Student—a title reserved for the children of royalty, nobility, and high taxpayers who showed exceptional abilities. He had received individualized instruction at the Udagawa Naval Air Force Academy, where he had completed all the credits in general education and military science. His appointment as sub-lieutenant candidate was guaranteed on his sixteenth birthday. Due to his extraordinary intelligence, he had been hailed by newspapers and magazines as the "greatest masterpiece of the Hinoh Imperial Family" and the "future commander of the Combined Fleet."

For over 2,600 years, the Hinoh Imperial Family had actively integrated bloodlines with "mutations" into its subsidiary families, especially during the Middle Ages. Many women with "special abilities" were brought into the imperial court, resulting in a lineage prone to manifesting extraordinary powers. For Kuroto, whose abilities could be described as supernatural, the civilian world where he could act freely was far more appealing than the rigid, old-fashioned imperial family.

Kuroto couldn't suppress the pounding in his chest.

My adventure is about to begin.

A surge of excitement coursed through his body at this premonition. He was eager to abandon this outdated island nation and experience freedom and equality in the vast lands of Gameria, testing his mettle.

Let's go, Father. This country is full of fools. The progressive Gameria is more appealing than the old-fashioned Hinoh as a testing ground for my abilities. Let's claim the glory we deserve in that land.

Takehiko looked at his son, who was speaking with the gravitas of an adult, and nodded with determination.

A one-ton tracer bullet, launched at twice the speed of sound, transformed into a fireball as it flew. Another shot followed, then another, all tracing parabolic arcs in the night sky.

Onboard the Hinoh royal family's ship, the heavy flying destroyer Ibuki, Major Izaya of the House of Shironomiya stood at the forward lookout, watching as these incoming fireballs streaked through the starlit expanse.

Three red-hot trails of light glowed brightly against the vast cosmic backdrop.

Like divine bolts, they streaked across the starlit sky, ready to unleash their devastating force aimed at the Ibuki.

The Ibuki was soaring within the buoyancy zone, the ocean beneath it hidden by the dark hues of the night. The infinite starry expanse, the vast cosmos, and the path of the tracer rounds carving their way through it were all mirrored in Izaya's crimson eyes.

Above, the enemy's flare rounds cast a silvery glow, illuminating the Ibuki as it navigated the starlit sky. The enemy had already spotted them, but the Ibuki, deprived of its primary cannon, could not return fire. They had no way of signaling with flares, and the enemy remained hidden from view.

Through the comms pipe, a strained voice from the lookout broke the silence.

Enemy ship firing!

Then, the composed voice of the Lookout Officer Myu Togakushi echoed from the open-air command post atop the forward lookout.

Left, 120 degrees. Distance: 15,000. One battleship, two heavy cruisers, two light cruisers. All are airborne.

Myu’s voice was quiet yet distinctly clear, her words precise. Her unique ability allowed her to gauge distance based solely on the flash of a launch.

Course 220 degrees. Speed twenty-three knots. Single column formation. No surface fleets in sight.

Myu’s reports continued, each one reliable, thanks to her proven accuracy during countless night drills. Izaya, trusting Myu’s expertise, relied on her as one of the top lookouts in the Hinoh Combined Fleet. Myu’s relief was palpable. With no surface fleet to worry about, they could focus entirely on the enemy's air fleet.

Are they planning on docking at Fort Mariveles?

It’s probably the vanguard of the Grand Duchy Fleet, on a reconnaissance mission.

Sensing the enemy's intentions, she immediately grabbed the intercom that led to the radio room.

Dispatch this from the captain to base command. We’ve spotted an enemy air fleet. Course 220 degrees, speed 23 knots. One battleship, two heavy cruisers, two light cruisers. Current position 120 aeronautical miles northwest of Fort Mariveles. Likely the vanguard of the Grand Duchy Fleet, aiming to rendezvous with the Far East Fleet. Our ship will initiate contact now.

The moonlight bathed the forward lookout, vividly illuminating the star-sparkled crimson eyes, porcelain skin, silver hair flowing from under her military cap, and the red velvet lining of her large cloak. She was dressed in a white blouse with a corset, black shorts, with a large ceremonial sword hanging from the belt around her waist. Military boots covered her long legs underneath her glamorous white thighs. At just eighteen, the image of the Hinoh Empire's first princess, possessing both elegance and terrifying beauty, floated gently in the blue moonlight.

As her report concluded, four tracer rounds tore through the night sky, their destructive paths lighting up the starry expanse.

These initial rounds weren't meant to hit their target. Unlike naval ships, where a water column rises when a shell lands nearby, observing the impact of a round fired at an aircraft is impossible, as it simply passes through the air. Therefore, tracer rounds were used to confirm the trajectory. Once the path was adjusted, the real barrage would begin. This was standard practice in aerial fleet warfare.

A hollow, chilling sound echoed as a tracer bullet soared over the Ibuki, its trajectory poised to split the ship in half had it struck directly.

It flew at an altitude of 1,200 meters, leaving behind three bright tracer marks that, like the invisible claws of a giant beast, tore through the air 150 meters ahead of the Ibuki before plummeting toward the sea.

It had been a close call.

That was precise.

In response to Izaya's murmur, Deputy Captain and Navigating Officer Rio Kazenomiya, standing beside her, nodded in agreement.

Father suggested it could be a fire control radar.

Rio's words were calm, free of any tension one might expect on a battlefield. This tranquility was far preferable to panic-stricken yelling.

The forward lookout was pitch black, so as not to obstruct the view with the reflection on the glass and to prevent any light leakage that could alert the enemy. Were it not for the moonlight, their figures would have been invisible against the night sky. The faint glow from the instrument panel was the only source of light, and they relied solely on each other's voices to ascertain their positions as they tracked the enemy ship, located 15,000 yards off the port side, against the backdrop of the starry sky.

They had yet to spot the enemy vessel that Myu had reported, but they had seen the flash of light moments earlier. Their goal now was to align their course with the enemy fleet and prepare for a torpedo attack.

Izaya seized the comms pipe that connected to the helm.

15 degrees to starboard.

She calmly commanded the change in course, and a response followed from the wheelhouse.

15 degrees to starboard, slow and steady.

As the Ibuki's bow sprayed multicolored Seras particles, it began its slow turn to the right.

Return to center. Engine, third combat speed.

Waving her baton toward the wheelhouse and engine control room, Izaya grabbed the ship's intercom and relayed the situation to the crews in the engine room, the communications room, and the kitchen —who couldn't see what was happening outside.

This is your captain speaking. We've encountered the enemy Gamerian fleet while patrolling near Manila. The enemy is presumably trying to enter Fort Mariveles. We've reported to headquarters, but waiting for our fleet isn't the best strategy. We're initiating long-range torpedo attacks on the enemy fleet.

As her voice rang out with determination, cheers from the soldiers filtered back through the comms pipe.

Your Highness!

Yes, Your Highness!

We'll do it for you, Your Highness!

Izaya watched as the soldiers, seemingly undeterred by the apparent recklessness of engaging five enemy ships—including a massive flying battleship—with only one flying destroyer, accepted her orders with enthusiasm. She nodded with serious approval before continuing.

Train as if you're in battle, and battle as if you're in training. Maintain your composure, and you'll always triumph. That's the kind of training we've gone through. Let's unite and aim for victory.

Following her stern proclamation, a fervent cheer erupted from within the ship, even louder than before.

Your Highness!

We won't lose!

We'll win this battle!!!

Faced with such an exuberantly carefree response, which could make one question their understanding of the situation itself, Izaya couldn't help but smirk slightly.

The overly cheerful atmosphere aboard the Ibuki starkly contrasted with the norms of stringent military regulations typically found within the Hinoh Naval Air Force. It's said a captain's personality shapes the nature of the extremely insular community aboard a warship, and despite adherence to the same military standards, the atmosphere on each vessel can differ drastically depending on the captain.

Roughly two years ago, Izaya boarded the Ibuki as Senior Air Torpedo Petty Officer. The following year, she assumed the role of captain. Since then, she has worked tirelessly to cultivate an open, energetic environment aboard the ship.

She adhered to the famous quote by the Prime Minister of Ringland:

War is a game that is played with a smile.

Life on a warship, where tomorrow was never guaranteed, had a tendency to become gloomy. The necessity to endure and survive the harsh daily life was the reason why one should always maintain a cheerful and energetic demeanor. Otherwise, the crew wouldn't be able to unite and fight for the Ibuki when necessary.

This was why Izaya consistently encouraged the sailors on the Ibuki to never lose their smiles, to remain cheerful and energetic, and to live considerately toward others.

With physical punishments like knuckle-rapping prohibited, and discipline entrusted entirely to Deck Officer Myu, the Ibuki's 200 crew members managed to maintain order while living like a close-knit, happy family.

However, the camaraderie had reached a point where things had perhaps become a bit too friendly—or perhaps too upbeat.

Unbeknownst to them, the atmosphere on the Ibuki had shifted. It had transformed into something resembling a fan club, with the crew idolizing both Izaya and Rio, the two princesses. Through the comms pipes, the crew’s enthusiastic calls echoed toward the forward lookout.

Princess!

Princess, say something!

Please, Your Highness, let us hear you!

They referred to Rio as “Princess.” Rio's father, Genzaburo Kazenomiya, was the Chief of the Military Command and the brother of the Emperor of Hinoh. The 200 crew members aboard the same air destroyer as the two princesses had divided into factions of supporters for each royal. They spent their free time exchanging princess memorabilia they’d picked up during shore leave.

Reacting to the call, Izaya passed the microphone to Rio.

Rio, with her long chestnut hair and clear jade-green eyes, was particularly popular among the male crew. The corset skirt she wore accentuated her figure, and the tie that swung wildly with every step earned her the nickname "Broken Compass" among the sailors. She was admired for her grace, though she remained unaware of how her looks affected the crew.

Unaware of the effect her looks and style had on the sailors, Rio always wore an innocent smile and inspired everyone with her upbeat and encouraging words.

Let's all do our best! We can absolutely do it if we just carry on as always! Once it's over, let's throw a party together!

Princess!

Yes, Princess!

We'll do it for you, Princess!

Thank you, everyone! I love you all!

Woo!

Oh yeah!

Princess!

Despite being under attack from the enemy fleet, the ship had transformed into something resembling a concert venue, with cheers and chants echoing through the halls. It was a strange juxtaposition, the fervor of fan interaction mixing with the seriousness of the ongoing battle.

What a bunch of fools . . .

As Izaya silently muttered to herself, a small bead of sweat trickled down her temple. She pondered that perhaps she had given them too much freedom, but she ultimately concluded that as long as everyone was united and morale remained high in the face of death, it might not be such a bad thing after all. With that, she took the microphone from Rio, her expression hardening to the composed demeanor of a leader.

All right, let's do this. Prepare the aerial torpedoes and stay on course. I'm counting on you. That is all.

After issuing her orders in a calm, emotionless tone, a final loud cheer erupted from the crew. Shortly after, vigorous orders from the crew started to resonate through the ship's communication tubes.

Torpedo tube six, ready!

Torpedo tube seven, ready!

The reports kept coming in.

Torpedo tube ten, ready!

On the deck of the heavy torpedo destroyer Ibuki, there were ten air torpedo launch tubes—tubes one through five on the starboard side and tubes six through ten on the port side, totaling forty launch lines.

Izaya gripped the intercom leading to the aerial torpedo launch command.

The target is the enemy fleet. Launch simultaneous torpedoes on the port side.

From the other end of the intercom, the gruff voice of Lead Sergeant Hibiki Onitsuka promptly echoed back.

Understood, Your Highness! Let's go, boys! Show some bravery!!

His robust voice, loud enough to rupture eardrums even through the intercom, filled the forward lookout. The cheers of sixty aerial torpedo crew members stationed on the upper deck followed in response.

To victory!

Your Highness!

For the Princesses!

Among the crew of the Ibuki, the aerial torpedo members were particularly rowdy, responding to every order with nothing but "Your Highness."

Izaya quietly tilted her head.

Is this really all right?

But the morale of the Ibuki was soaring, at least.

So be it.

At that moment, a straight line split the distant darkness.

The enemy fleet is firing!

The loud cry from the upper lookout, who was observing the battlefield from the top of the floating vessel, echoed sharply across the deck.

Distance: 15,000, same course. Port side, 120 degrees, bearing 200 degrees, speed twenty-one knots.

Almost simultaneously, Myu, stationed at the open-air command post above Izaya and the rest, reported the enemy's distance, position, course, and speed. Her ability to gauge distance accurately from the flash of a shot had saved the Ibuki from disaster more than once.

Turn 15 degrees to starboard.

Izaya calmly issued the order to the helm, adjusting their course.

With the gap still at 15,000 yards, if they altered course just as the enemy fired, they would barely avoid a direct hit. The Ibuki churned up a bow wave of Seras particles to a height of 1,200 meters, creating a shimmering rainbow trail as it veered to the left.

Meanwhile, twenty-four fiery arrows, harbingers of destruction, soared through the starry sky.

Each ship used a distinct color for its tracer rounds: battleships left a red trail, heavy cruisers a green one, and light cruisers a yellow one. The twenty-four trails, like claw marks etched across the heavens, arced upwards before plunging back down toward the Ibuki.

Reset. Air Torpedo Chief, adjust the firing angle.

Izaya quickly instructed the Air Torpedo Chief, positioned on the navigation bridge at the front of the upper deck, through the comms tube.

We . . . we haven't sighted the enemy ship yet!

Chief Sasao Kakitsubata's panicked voice crackled back over the intercom. Izaya let out a sigh as soft as a whisper, hoping it would go unnoticed.

Distance: 15,000 yards, same course, 120 degrees to port, speed twenty-one knots.

She relayed Myu's report, which Kakitsubata should have already heard.

But the readings on the rangefinder are still . . .

Please adjust as Myu advised. I'm relying on you. Hurry up.

If they hesitated, they'd be targeted by the enemy. Her gaze sharpened as she anxiously waited for Kakitsubata to finish calculating the firing angle.

First torpedo, firing angle 30, opening angle one degree!

Kakitsubata's voice, fraught with tension, weakly reverberated with Izaya and the torpedo tube crew.

The captain’s job was to guide the ship into position for the perfect firing solution, while the air torpedo officer’s responsibility was to calculate the exact firing angle—so that even if the enemy maneuvered, the torpedo would still hit its mark. Non-commissioned Officer Onitsuka was in charge of executing the order.

First torpedo, firing angle 30, opening angle one degree! This is the real deal! Fire for the princesses! Fire, even if it costs you your life! Die only after you've fired!

He roared at everyone. Instantly, dozens of sailors, each in charge of their respective torpedo tubes on the deck and performing the final adjustments, responded with a unified, passionate cry.

Your Highness, I'm on it!

Watch me!

Izaya gripped the voice tube leading to the helm, positioning herself for the best shot when, suddenly—

Incoming enemy fire!

At the same moment the lookout cried out, twenty-four pillars of fire engulfed the vicinity of the Ibuki.

. . . !

The main guns of the light cruisers, heavy cruisers, and battleships unleashed iron masses weighing between 200 and 1,000 kilograms, each traveling at speeds exceeding 600 yards per second—far faster than the speed of sound. These projectiles tore through the sky above, sending shockwaves that violently shook the 170-meter-long Ibuki in every direction.

There was no direct hit, just narrowly missing. The Seras particles, reacting to the shock waves, formed a rainbow in the starry sky, along with the burnt, tri-colored streaks connecting like the heavens reaching the sea.

Despite the barrage, the Ibuki pressed on, its course unwavering as it flew toward its firing position, undeterred by the battlefield now engulfed in flames.

All clear. The next one is approaching quickly.

Izaya heard Rio's warning, as she pointed to the left airspace with her hand.

If one squinted, they could see the flickering flashes of light darting across the sky in quick succession, once again leaving burnt streaks against the backdrop of stars. Less than a minute had passed since the initial barrage when another flare exploded directly above the Ibuki, lighting up the night like day.

The enemy's commendable first round of rapid-fire observatory shooting was noteworthy.

The enemy equals us in morale and training, and their technology is a decade ahead of ours.

The only advantage Hinoh holds over the enemy is our bravery.

The firing angle had already been relayed to the gunners, leaving no room to adjust their course. Their only option was to hold steady. It was a risk, but putting their lives on the line to fire the air torpedoes was the true duty of those aboard a flying destroyer.

The Ibuki crew, assigned to a ship built to single-handedly challenge a fleet, would lose their purpose if they fled at this stage.

Captain, we need to change our course! We'll have to redo the distance measurement!

Kakitsubata shouted, panic creeping into his voice. But changing course now would mean recalculating the firing angle and distance—a luxury they didn't have.

We must stay on track.

We're going to dive straight into the fray?!

Exactly.

Ahhh!

Kakitsubata's terrified scream resounded in reply.

Rather than risk perishing from a direct hit, the plan was to launch a barrage of twenty air torpedoes.

The crew of the Ibuki had already steeled themselves for this. They were ready to go down with the enemy fleet if necessary.

Just as they were on the verge of reaching the firing point, Izaya grabbed the comms pipe.

Begin firing on the port side!

At her command, the shooter on the navigation bridge activated the ship’s buzzer.

A grating warning sound enveloped the entire ship.

The moment it stopped, the shooter pressed the launch button, and the officer on deck let out the loudest cry of the night.

Fireeeeeeeee!

Concurrently with Onitsuka's booming command that shook the night sky, the launch tubes on the air torpedo side elevated at two-second intervals, ready to unleash the Ibuki’s deadly payload.

Air hissed out of the five pipe systems one after another, each sounding like a giant balloon rapidly deflating. Hinoh’s secret weapon, the "oxygen torpedoes," plunged into the sea of stars, creating a splash of rainbow colors as they shot forward.

The torpedoes, encased in their floating stone shells, raced through the buoyancy zone at fifty knots. The airships in their path couldn't evade by ascending or descending, as they were bound by the sphere's limits. Their only hope was horizontal dodging, confined to an altitude of 1,200 meters.

To the best of Izaya’s knowledge, a long-distance night torpedo attack on enemy ships 15,000 yards away was a first in the history of fleet air combat. While the torpedoes and oxygen torpedoes used by Gameria had a range of 5,000 yards, Hinoh’s could reach up to 40,000 yards. Izaya doubted the enemy fleet would anticipate them from such a distance. Now, all she could do was hope that the enemy lookouts wouldn’t spot the faint light spray left behind by the torpedoes.

A fan-shaped distribution belt of twenty firing lines had been set up to cover the anticipated route of the enemy fleet. Izaya tightly gripped the comms pipe leading to the steering room.

Hard to starboard! Full speed ahead! We need to get out of this combat zone!

After firing, their presence in this vicinity was no longer necessary. The only thing left to do was to retreat at full throttle, out of the enemy's firing range.

She could feel the painfully slow turn of the ship in her gut, and her gaze trailed the air torpedoes that were launched from the rear.

The twenty firing lines were falling back, leaving behind a trail of rainbow-hued lightning as they retreated.

If the enemy continued their course, they would undoubtedly meet their end.

Hopefully, they won't notice.

At that very moment, the iridescent hues of the Seras Effect shimmered in response to the movement of objects, a nuisance in the night sky. Without it, the dark, advancing air torpedoes would blend into the darkness, nearly invisible.

Ten minutes until the air torpedoes hit their target!

The voice of a Measurement Officer from the navigation bridge echoed through the comms tube.

Immediately after the warning, beams of destructive light rained down from the sky, enveloping the vicinity of the Ibuki.

. . . !

The Seras particles, reacting to the immense physical energy, exploded into a spray of iridescent colors, coloring the buoyancy zone. Merging with the trails of the tricolored tracer bullets, they swirled and danced around chaotically, as though caught in a storm of rainbows.

It's so beautiful . . . !

This rainbow tornado was a beast capable of wiping out two-hundred lives in the blink of an eye, yet Izaya couldn't help but recognize its destructive beauty.

Dying in this . . . wouldn't be so bad.

Such sentimentality occasionally stirred within her, high in the skies, far removed from the earthly realities of battle.