Chocolate Fic for dalampasigan
To: dalampasigan
From: cupid_johnny
Title: Learning to Fly
Pairing: Nishikido Ryo/Ishihara Satomi
Rating: PG-13
Summary: [AU] There will always be a next time: if not in this life, maybe in the next lifetime.
Author’s Note: Hi dalampasigan, I can never write as funnily or as wittily as you do, just like how I can’t be as funny or as witty as you are in real life. I am an indomitable block of srsbzns and no-nonsense (except with frequent bouts of quasi-Alzheimer’s and old lady tendencies like, oh, forgetting drafts in workplace inboxes over the weekend and falling asleep while sitting in front of the laptop), so please excuse my fail, rushed, photo-finish gift fic for you. Inspired by To Aru Hikuushi e no Tsuioku.
Thanks to my speed beta A, who, despite knowing nothing about my fandom, still willingly did a once-over on this fic. All mistakes and confusions arising from my writing thereof are solely of my own negligence.
Wyndham was a little land-locked colony that Ryo Nishikido called home.
Or perhaps, a place that he can associate the word home with.
As a child, Ryo only remembers having been asked by his mother, numerous times, to stay indoors.
Which was why he’s only ever watched, from the miniscule window in his room, and only ever listened, to the engines that roared and broke through the sky after planes upon planes took off from the runway of the military airbase near their abode.
Your father was a great pilot, his mother would say, in hushed tones and under the light of a solitary candle as they ate dinner, and he’s always wondered why his mother had to be so careful even when they were just at home-were they hiding?-but he never asked, contenting himself with watching as planes took off and landed just beyond their backyard, and filling his mind with images of a faceless pilot that flew the fastest plane ever.
--
“I’m so sorry!”
It took all of his willpower not to roll his eyes in sarcasm, indignation, irritation, anything and everything associated with the feeling-as he wiped his fringe that’s sticking onto his forehead aside.
“It’s… okay,” he grits out, smiling that signature smile of his.
Then he perches onto the left wing of their aircraft, and takes utter delight at the discomfited expression on the Lady’s face-if there was anything he was good at after being stripped of his plane and his gun, it’s the unflappable smile that spans his face from ear to ear - a surefire way to make people feel uncomfortable right when he needs them to be.
“I’m really very sorry, Mr. Ace.” The Lady holds a hand out for him to take, and the soft, melodious lilt of her apology inevitably gets to him, and now he feels like the person at fault for letting her white lace poncho get blown away by the wind.
(It is not his fault, and neither was it hers, but.)
He takes her hand, accepting her help, and hauls himself up from the seawaters.
-and promptly loses his footing, sliding back into the sea and taking Lady Ishihara with him.
--
Valois is a country beyond the Argyll Sea; a progressive, powerful country ruled by the Royal Joubert family.
A family that Lady Satomi Ishihara, Heiress of the Ishigami Estate - the largest in Wyndham colony - would soon be a part of.
--
They were in the Mess Hall, having lunch when he was summoned by the Commander-in-Chief.
He would suffer the longest, most demoralizing hour of his life as he listened to the Commander and the Deputy argue and, inevitably, hurl insulting descriptions and uncalled for references about his supposed descent (more from the Commander and not the Deputy).
And then he emerged as a tougher, more determined man.
Don’t let Wyndham down, Bastard Child.
--
“Shitshitshitshitshiiiit,” he’s never lost his composure, at least not at this level, because-“Get down, Milady!” He shouts as he, too, maneuvres the small Moongoose plane, descending, hovering on the water surface as the Soleil chases after them, eclipsing the daylight as it closes in on smaller aircraft.
The way the bigger aircraft seemed to have known their coordinates only solidified his suspicions that reconnaissance has been set up for the clandestine, top-secret mission, which the stupid, utterly stupid Prince of Valois had jeopardized by sending a telegraph to Lady Ishihara prior to their dispatch.
But he was a man, a man with a mission, and bearing the moniker Ace-
He was not about to go down without a fight.
--
“An escort mission in the guise of a transport mission, huh,” Mac sets his beer mug down, frowning. “They’re certainly trying to make it as less obvious as it should be.”
Jacky laughs, that boisterous, raucous one. “Of course! The future of our colony is on the line - the Wyndhamian militia may be powerful, but admit it, Mac, against the Arturians we’re not as powerful without Valois sending over reinforcements.”
“But to send a mercenary over a real pilot…” Toppo pitches in as he slides into the seat beside Ace, “you’re flying the Praetorian, right?”
Ace shakes his head, “I’m flying the two-seater Moongoose for this.”
Everyone else on the table started and gasped at the revelation, and Ace merely shrugs. “It’s the fastest, so it’s only logical.”
“But can you really do it? On your own?” Gum piped in, concern written all over his usually bright and jovial face, the beer in his mug sloshing onto the wooden table.
“He can,” the quiet, confident response transforms the ruckus that broke out at Ace’s revelation into a lull, the ragtag company of orphans-turned-mercenaries deferring to the owner of the voice, “he isn’t our Ace for nothing.”
“Arsenal…”
“Besides,” Johnny interjects, placing a plate of enchiladas and quesadillas on the table, “we’re going to cover him. And we’re going to make sure Ace flies away safely without getting detected.”
A chorus of agreement, the clinking of beer mugs, and then the usual pomp, smoke and noise that accompanied their drinking sessions ensued.
--
She screeches, having to see the gigantic aircraft and its high-powered guns firing shots at them upfront, one shot after another, her grip on the controller and trigger tightening with each swerve and sway of their small plane.
“Satomi!”
She was about to respond, was about to get back up to her seat and take the reigns of the plane’s only offensive weapon when their aircraft takes a hit, one of the missiles barely missed the right wing of their aircraft, the glass shattering and some shards biting into the skin of her arm.
Satomi hisses in pain, is thrown out of her balance as the plane tilts to the left (to her right, since she sits back-to-back with Ace), but still takes her cue and grabs the controls, and starts shooting at the bigger aircraft, firing shot after shot after shot while Ace speeded and flew out of the Soleil’s range.
Successfully flying out of the enemy aircraft’s range, Satomi feels safe enough to stop firing, her adrenalin rush slowing down while she caught her breath. “Ace,” she starts, about to break into a chuckle, “you just called me-”
“Milady,” he croaks, and this prompts her to turn and look at the pilot.
She promptly gasps at the bloody right side window of their plane, and the equally-if-not-even-bloodier right side of her pilot.
“Please… Please continue speaking, Milady, we’re only a few miles away from our stop, but I’m afraid I’m… I’m…”
“No! I mean-yes! Ace, please don’t fall asleep yet!”
So Satomi talks-of her childhood memories, of playing the melodies of Chopin and Rachmaninoff on the grand piano in their home, of learning new languages and the art of flower arrangement, intermittently asking him for his opinions and affirmations-sometimes deliberately raising her voice to catch his attention, should he be slipping into unconsciousness.
And Ace listens, or at least he tries to, as he does his best to land the plane on the island that should be their stop for the day, fighting off the temptation to succumb into the darkness calling to him as his blood trickled down from an open wound on his temple.
--
“So this Bastard Child is your recommendation?”
“Yes, Commander.”
Ace has trained himself to accept whatever is thrown his way, no matter how degrading or demoralizing they are. Bastard Child is something he’s heard since young-the racial slur has already lost its meaning to him.
“A mercenary pilot… Well then-Ryo Nishikido- as you’ve heard, the Ishigami Estate has been attacked by an air strike initiated by Arturian forces. It is no secret that Lady Ishihara is the future Crown Princess, thus it is likely that the Arturian forces will be back to forcefully take Lady Ishihara, or bring death upon her-we do not know what they are planning to do.
But one thing is for certain: The Crown Prince wants his bride out of Wyndham and into Valois.
Your mission is to escort Lady Ishihara to Valois, and to turn her over to Valoisian custody.”
A few beats of silence, then:
“Any questions?”
Ryo asks for permission to speak. “Isn’t the Lady supposed to be escorted by the Wyndham Air Force?”
“That will be far too inconspicuous. Having a lone plane fly through the ocean is less suspicious compared to a fleet flying to one destination.”
“And this is why I precisely chose you, Ace,” the Deputy Commander pipes in, “your rank and current position notwithstanding, your skills as a pilot and as a shooter far outweighs all-“ he coughs, “-most of the Wyndham Air Force pilots.”
A miniscule sense of pride rushes over him, but-
“You have no choice but to accept this mission, Bastard Child.”
“I accept.”
“Remember that you are not to talk to Lady Ishihara.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are not to say anything to her-nothing at all-and when she speaks to you, just answer with the most basic of answers, or just ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re dismissed-you must send a plotted flight path tomorrow at the earliest. No room for errors, I say… And know your place.”
--
Ace wakes up to the scent of burning leaves, and when he comes to, he bolts upright from his inclined seat against the coconut tree.
Lady Ishihara with her long, flowing hair and equally long, flowing clothes was replaced by this Lady Ishihara-look-a-like with shorter hair… and wearing short shorts. Not to mention a short top that rides up when she-
“You’re awake! Finally.”
This Lady Ishihara-look-a-like bounded to him and bounced gaily, and he was quick to quash any indecent thoughts that started the minute he’s seen the creamy, pale skin revealed by her sudden change of outfit.
“I tried to cook some fish-don’t look at me like I grew a new head, Ace, I do know how to catch fish! Well maybe I do look like I grew a new head, because I just cut my hair short-what do you think of my new hair style?”
Ace thinks it’s fine, better than her usual hair style, and so are her clothes, but she didn’t ask for his opinion of that.
So he nods. “Uh… yes, it looks great, Milady.”
“Oh, that’s a relief.” Was that an actual blush he’d seen, or has she just been under the sun for an extended period of time? She was, after all, very pale and rarely went outdoors, or so he’d thought.
(Or so he remembers she did, a few years ago, but.)
“-Ace? Aaaace?”
Ace blinks, coming back to his senses. “Sorry?”
And he backs up into the tree a bit, daunted by her sudden advances. “Y-yes?”
“Oh dear,” Satomi mutters, frowning, “and here I thought I’ve patched you up nicely. Does your head still hurt...? You feel a bit warm too, you must be running a slight fever.”
“N-No, I’m fine-I’m fine, Milady- ”
“Satomi. Please call me Satomi,” she draws back (thank goodness), sitting on her hind legs and staring at him. “You had no problems calling me that earlier, why switch back to Milady again?”
Know your place.
He swallows. “A-All right, Mi-Satomi.”
--
“Allow me to help.”
Ace turns to see her with her sleeves rolled up, already holding onto a glass panel that he’s taken out of storage to replace the broken cockpit glass.
“Thank you for offering, but I can do this on my own, Satomi.” He takes the glass away from her, carefully. “You should take a rest.”
Satomi turns a pout on him: “But I’ve been sitting for most of the day, Ace. It gets boring at times-most of the time,” and then she picks up a monkey wrench, “I can follow instructions, right? Just like how I fired shots at the huge aircraft?”
“Well that’s true-hey!” She starts poking at his sides using the wrench, “-that’s dangerous!”
“Not going to stop until you let me help,” Satomi sticks a tongue out, continuing to poke at his sides, and Ace knows that it was a lost battle.
--
“A mercenary pilot? Then why did you accept this job?”
Ace tries his hardest not to look to his side, where Satomi was on her side, looking at him.
“They offered me a big amount of money once I’ve successfully escorted you to Valois.”
“Money?”
He nods. “Mercenaries were always paid for what they did. As this was an extraordinary mission that did not require eliminating someone,” he pauses, carefully looks sideways-her gaze did not falter-“then they had to offer compensation that would leave me no room to refuse.”
“Ehh,” she hums, rolling over to face the late afternoon sky. “So it must be bigger than what they usually give you for your missions, right?”
“It is,” he doesn’t hesitate. “When I’ve successfully escorted you into Valois waters they will give me a bag of gold. It should be more than what I usually get for my regular missions… Should be enough for me to start a new life somewhere.”
Satomi sighs heavily. “How nice that must be… To be free from whatever restrictions and expectations from the society.”
The wind blows, blanketing the silence between them.
“Yeah, it should be nice…”
“I bet you’ll also change your name.”
He chuckles. “Perhaps.” And he shrugs, “I’d probably try to buy an airplane, too. I’ve always wanted to fly into the sky.”
“Will you take me with you?”
“Of cour-” and Ace comes to a halt, chances a look at Satomi and finds, much to his dismay, the young lady staring at him directly, openly.
But she has to realize that: “That’s impossible, I’m afraid.”
“Why not?” She’s up from the grass, now looking down at him. “It’s as good as how you’ve flown me out of Wyndham, right? They would never know. We can just disappear and no one would know.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Milady.”
“Satomi,” she grits out, and Ace can detect the frustration in her voice.
He humours her, though. “I can’t do that, Satomi,” he says, closing his eyes as the first rays of the sun begin to disappear. “I have sworn to fly you to safety, at the expense of my comrades who have agreed to become a diversion tactic for me to accomplish my task.
--and I can’t get my compensation if I aborted this mission right before I’ve finished it.”
Ace opens his eyes, and it took him all his willpower not to flinch at the proximity of her face.
“Is that it? Just the compensation?” She glowers at him, “Won’t you even try to help a young girl who was put into a position, into a role that she never really wanted?
Won’t you even consider doing a girl a lifetime favour and allow her to live her life the way she wants to?”
Thankfully she pulls away, turning from him as she gathers her bearings. He’d have tried to do something drastic if she didn’t.
“I’m sorry for acting so child-like,” she sounded just a bit above wheezing, and he gives her the space to gather her bearings before he turns to face her.
“I can empathize.”
The pink and purple splashes on the sky have started to disappear, and the wind that blew around them has grown cooler.
“You know,” Satomi begins, some time after they’ve moved from their place and started preparing for dinner, “you remind me of a little boy I’ve met when I was younger. He said he really wanted to fly into the sky, and I really envied his resolution to become a pilot like his father was. But at that time I was just really looking for someone to dance with, so I kind of duped him into dancing an imaginary Waltz with me by telling him that dancing is the same as flying.
He has the same creepy smile like you do, if I were to be honest-though he has a name, unlike you. His name was Ryo Nishikido.”
Ace stills from his task-starting the fire-takes a deep breath, and then:
“Ah… I see.”
--
“If we continue to travel north-east, by tomorrow we would reach the country of Valois… and then His Highness, The Prince of Valois’ Naval Forces will be awaiting by the Bay.”
He sees her visibly clam up, the gentle, blissful smile that has been on her face the whole day immediately morphing into a frown; and he feels like a grand douchebag, a mean kid who kicked a puppy on the side streets of Wyndham.
But there was little else he could do - he was only asked, tasked to transport the Prince’s Bride from the war-torn Wyndham, whatever it takes -- even at the expense of his comrades-at-arms, who have gone into airspace knowing that they would be used as subterfuge for a covert mission of taking the future princess away from the war.
“Hey… Hey Mr. Ace,” the Lady intones, and he could see the shadows of the campfire playing on her pale, pristine, beautiful face, “you’ll be able to get me across the ocean for sure, right?”
“Yes,” he responds, quicker than his heartbeat, which just about slowed at the reversion to formalities.
The warmth of her hand as it brushed against his on the grass disappeared, and the bonfire that burned until right before dusk only left him cold, unfeeling and alone.
--
It is three hours past noon, and they have landed on water, right where Ace had plotted the meet up point with the Valoisian Naval Forces. Ace opens the cockpit and steps out, standing on the small plane’s wing as it floats on water.
He helps her out of the plane, holding onto her hand far too longer than what was necessary.
And when he tries to pull away, she holds onto him.
“Are you really going to give me away?” Satomi whispers, hands squeezing his, tugging him closer.
Ace knows that Satomi knows just what this is supposed to be-she is his mission, a mission to escort out from the perilous Wyndham, to the impeccably defended Valois, where her intended has been waiting for her.
It was merely coincidental that they’ve met before, when they were younger.
“I was sent on this mission, S-Milady,” he takes a breath, “and my mission ends once I’ve turned you over to The Valoisian Naval Forces.”
Ace feels, rather than sees, her tremble, and then-
“I don’t want to go anymore,” Satomi hiccups, tears flowing freely from her cheeks now. “Please don’t give me away, Ace.”
But you were never mine to keep, he wanted to say, but can never bring himself to say. He was a mercenary, a killer pilot-someone like him should never aim for someone so pure and untainted. Someone like Satomi should stay that way.
This was what he was supposed do: to protect the ones who are untainted, keep them from soiling their hands with the un-washable stench and stain of blood.
Instead he pulls her into his arms, letting her cry into his shoulder, placing a small kiss into her hair.
It lasts all but half a minute, and the telltale spin of the Valoisian chopper tells them that the spell should expire, that this is where it ends.
“They’re here, Milady.” He whispers, finally letting her go.
--
7 years later
The Ishihara family welcomes back their daughter, Princess Dowager Satomi Ishihara, by organizing what nobilities normally do: a banquet ball, in honour of the Princess Dowager, who has decided to come back to her home country rather than stay in Valois where the new King, the brother of her late husband, ruled.
She was widowed at a very young age, and, still being the fairest among the kingdoms of Valois and Arturia and the colony of Wyndham, it was inevitable that her parents had tried, but to no avail, to get their only daughter to re-marry and produce an offspring that would continue the Ishihara line.
But the Princess Dowager was the least bit keen on socializing, keeping to her feet and declining any invitation to dance. To her, there were more important things that she needed to lobby for, such as the charity she has founded that aims to sponsor orphans whose parents have died in the Great War.
She’s seen on her peripheral that there’s someone pointedly walking towards her; and Satomi, ever prepared with her kind refusal, steels herself for another round of skirting an offer to dance.
“Hello, Milady,” the newcomer curtsies, and Satomi’s eyes widen at the familiarity of his voice; when he draws up from his deep curtsy-
“My name is Ryo Nishikido, and I am an aviation enthusiast. Would you do me the favour of having this dance?”
FIN.
From: cupid_johnny
Title: Learning to Fly
Pairing: Nishikido Ryo/Ishihara Satomi
Rating: PG-13
Summary: [AU] There will always be a next time: if not in this life, maybe in the next lifetime.
Author’s Note: Hi dalampasigan, I can never write as funnily or as wittily as you do, just like how I can’t be as funny or as witty as you are in real life. I am an indomitable block of srsbzns and no-nonsense (except with frequent bouts of quasi-Alzheimer’s and old lady tendencies like, oh, forgetting drafts in workplace inboxes over the weekend and falling asleep while sitting in front of the laptop), so please excuse my fail, rushed, photo-finish gift fic for you. Inspired by To Aru Hikuushi e no Tsuioku.
Thanks to my speed beta A, who, despite knowing nothing about my fandom, still willingly did a once-over on this fic. All mistakes and confusions arising from my writing thereof are solely of my own negligence.
Wyndham was a little land-locked colony that Ryo Nishikido called home.
Or perhaps, a place that he can associate the word home with.
As a child, Ryo only remembers having been asked by his mother, numerous times, to stay indoors.
Which was why he’s only ever watched, from the miniscule window in his room, and only ever listened, to the engines that roared and broke through the sky after planes upon planes took off from the runway of the military airbase near their abode.
Your father was a great pilot, his mother would say, in hushed tones and under the light of a solitary candle as they ate dinner, and he’s always wondered why his mother had to be so careful even when they were just at home-were they hiding?-but he never asked, contenting himself with watching as planes took off and landed just beyond their backyard, and filling his mind with images of a faceless pilot that flew the fastest plane ever.
--
“I’m so sorry!”
It took all of his willpower not to roll his eyes in sarcasm, indignation, irritation, anything and everything associated with the feeling-as he wiped his fringe that’s sticking onto his forehead aside.
“It’s… okay,” he grits out, smiling that signature smile of his.
Then he perches onto the left wing of their aircraft, and takes utter delight at the discomfited expression on the Lady’s face-if there was anything he was good at after being stripped of his plane and his gun, it’s the unflappable smile that spans his face from ear to ear - a surefire way to make people feel uncomfortable right when he needs them to be.
“I’m really very sorry, Mr. Ace.” The Lady holds a hand out for him to take, and the soft, melodious lilt of her apology inevitably gets to him, and now he feels like the person at fault for letting her white lace poncho get blown away by the wind.
(It is not his fault, and neither was it hers, but.)
He takes her hand, accepting her help, and hauls himself up from the seawaters.
-and promptly loses his footing, sliding back into the sea and taking Lady Ishihara with him.
--
Valois is a country beyond the Argyll Sea; a progressive, powerful country ruled by the Royal Joubert family.
A family that Lady Satomi Ishihara, Heiress of the Ishigami Estate - the largest in Wyndham colony - would soon be a part of.
--
They were in the Mess Hall, having lunch when he was summoned by the Commander-in-Chief.
He would suffer the longest, most demoralizing hour of his life as he listened to the Commander and the Deputy argue and, inevitably, hurl insulting descriptions and uncalled for references about his supposed descent (more from the Commander and not the Deputy).
And then he emerged as a tougher, more determined man.
Don’t let Wyndham down, Bastard Child.
--
“Shitshitshitshitshiiiit,” he’s never lost his composure, at least not at this level, because-“Get down, Milady!” He shouts as he, too, maneuvres the small Moongoose plane, descending, hovering on the water surface as the Soleil chases after them, eclipsing the daylight as it closes in on smaller aircraft.
The way the bigger aircraft seemed to have known their coordinates only solidified his suspicions that reconnaissance has been set up for the clandestine, top-secret mission, which the stupid, utterly stupid Prince of Valois had jeopardized by sending a telegraph to Lady Ishihara prior to their dispatch.
But he was a man, a man with a mission, and bearing the moniker Ace-
He was not about to go down without a fight.
--
“An escort mission in the guise of a transport mission, huh,” Mac sets his beer mug down, frowning. “They’re certainly trying to make it as less obvious as it should be.”
Jacky laughs, that boisterous, raucous one. “Of course! The future of our colony is on the line - the Wyndhamian militia may be powerful, but admit it, Mac, against the Arturians we’re not as powerful without Valois sending over reinforcements.”
“But to send a mercenary over a real pilot…” Toppo pitches in as he slides into the seat beside Ace, “you’re flying the Praetorian, right?”
Ace shakes his head, “I’m flying the two-seater Moongoose for this.”
Everyone else on the table started and gasped at the revelation, and Ace merely shrugs. “It’s the fastest, so it’s only logical.”
“But can you really do it? On your own?” Gum piped in, concern written all over his usually bright and jovial face, the beer in his mug sloshing onto the wooden table.
“He can,” the quiet, confident response transforms the ruckus that broke out at Ace’s revelation into a lull, the ragtag company of orphans-turned-mercenaries deferring to the owner of the voice, “he isn’t our Ace for nothing.”
“Arsenal…”
“Besides,” Johnny interjects, placing a plate of enchiladas and quesadillas on the table, “we’re going to cover him. And we’re going to make sure Ace flies away safely without getting detected.”
A chorus of agreement, the clinking of beer mugs, and then the usual pomp, smoke and noise that accompanied their drinking sessions ensued.
--
She screeches, having to see the gigantic aircraft and its high-powered guns firing shots at them upfront, one shot after another, her grip on the controller and trigger tightening with each swerve and sway of their small plane.
“Satomi!”
She was about to respond, was about to get back up to her seat and take the reigns of the plane’s only offensive weapon when their aircraft takes a hit, one of the missiles barely missed the right wing of their aircraft, the glass shattering and some shards biting into the skin of her arm.
Satomi hisses in pain, is thrown out of her balance as the plane tilts to the left (to her right, since she sits back-to-back with Ace), but still takes her cue and grabs the controls, and starts shooting at the bigger aircraft, firing shot after shot after shot while Ace speeded and flew out of the Soleil’s range.
Successfully flying out of the enemy aircraft’s range, Satomi feels safe enough to stop firing, her adrenalin rush slowing down while she caught her breath. “Ace,” she starts, about to break into a chuckle, “you just called me-”
“Milady,” he croaks, and this prompts her to turn and look at the pilot.
She promptly gasps at the bloody right side window of their plane, and the equally-if-not-even-bloodier right side of her pilot.
“Please… Please continue speaking, Milady, we’re only a few miles away from our stop, but I’m afraid I’m… I’m…”
“No! I mean-yes! Ace, please don’t fall asleep yet!”
So Satomi talks-of her childhood memories, of playing the melodies of Chopin and Rachmaninoff on the grand piano in their home, of learning new languages and the art of flower arrangement, intermittently asking him for his opinions and affirmations-sometimes deliberately raising her voice to catch his attention, should he be slipping into unconsciousness.
And Ace listens, or at least he tries to, as he does his best to land the plane on the island that should be their stop for the day, fighting off the temptation to succumb into the darkness calling to him as his blood trickled down from an open wound on his temple.
--
“So this Bastard Child is your recommendation?”
“Yes, Commander.”
Ace has trained himself to accept whatever is thrown his way, no matter how degrading or demoralizing they are. Bastard Child is something he’s heard since young-the racial slur has already lost its meaning to him.
“A mercenary pilot… Well then-Ryo Nishikido- as you’ve heard, the Ishigami Estate has been attacked by an air strike initiated by Arturian forces. It is no secret that Lady Ishihara is the future Crown Princess, thus it is likely that the Arturian forces will be back to forcefully take Lady Ishihara, or bring death upon her-we do not know what they are planning to do.
But one thing is for certain: The Crown Prince wants his bride out of Wyndham and into Valois.
Your mission is to escort Lady Ishihara to Valois, and to turn her over to Valoisian custody.”
A few beats of silence, then:
“Any questions?”
Ryo asks for permission to speak. “Isn’t the Lady supposed to be escorted by the Wyndham Air Force?”
“That will be far too inconspicuous. Having a lone plane fly through the ocean is less suspicious compared to a fleet flying to one destination.”
“And this is why I precisely chose you, Ace,” the Deputy Commander pipes in, “your rank and current position notwithstanding, your skills as a pilot and as a shooter far outweighs all-“ he coughs, “-most of the Wyndham Air Force pilots.”
A miniscule sense of pride rushes over him, but-
“You have no choice but to accept this mission, Bastard Child.”
“I accept.”
“Remember that you are not to talk to Lady Ishihara.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are not to say anything to her-nothing at all-and when she speaks to you, just answer with the most basic of answers, or just ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re dismissed-you must send a plotted flight path tomorrow at the earliest. No room for errors, I say… And know your place.”
--
Ace wakes up to the scent of burning leaves, and when he comes to, he bolts upright from his inclined seat against the coconut tree.
Lady Ishihara with her long, flowing hair and equally long, flowing clothes was replaced by this Lady Ishihara-look-a-like with shorter hair… and wearing short shorts. Not to mention a short top that rides up when she-
“You’re awake! Finally.”
This Lady Ishihara-look-a-like bounded to him and bounced gaily, and he was quick to quash any indecent thoughts that started the minute he’s seen the creamy, pale skin revealed by her sudden change of outfit.
“I tried to cook some fish-don’t look at me like I grew a new head, Ace, I do know how to catch fish! Well maybe I do look like I grew a new head, because I just cut my hair short-what do you think of my new hair style?”
Ace thinks it’s fine, better than her usual hair style, and so are her clothes, but she didn’t ask for his opinion of that.
So he nods. “Uh… yes, it looks great, Milady.”
“Oh, that’s a relief.” Was that an actual blush he’d seen, or has she just been under the sun for an extended period of time? She was, after all, very pale and rarely went outdoors, or so he’d thought.
(Or so he remembers she did, a few years ago, but.)
“-Ace? Aaaace?”
Ace blinks, coming back to his senses. “Sorry?”
And he backs up into the tree a bit, daunted by her sudden advances. “Y-yes?”
“Oh dear,” Satomi mutters, frowning, “and here I thought I’ve patched you up nicely. Does your head still hurt...? You feel a bit warm too, you must be running a slight fever.”
“N-No, I’m fine-I’m fine, Milady- ”
“Satomi. Please call me Satomi,” she draws back (thank goodness), sitting on her hind legs and staring at him. “You had no problems calling me that earlier, why switch back to Milady again?”
Know your place.
He swallows. “A-All right, Mi-Satomi.”
--
“Allow me to help.”
Ace turns to see her with her sleeves rolled up, already holding onto a glass panel that he’s taken out of storage to replace the broken cockpit glass.
“Thank you for offering, but I can do this on my own, Satomi.” He takes the glass away from her, carefully. “You should take a rest.”
Satomi turns a pout on him: “But I’ve been sitting for most of the day, Ace. It gets boring at times-most of the time,” and then she picks up a monkey wrench, “I can follow instructions, right? Just like how I fired shots at the huge aircraft?”
“Well that’s true-hey!” She starts poking at his sides using the wrench, “-that’s dangerous!”
“Not going to stop until you let me help,” Satomi sticks a tongue out, continuing to poke at his sides, and Ace knows that it was a lost battle.
--
“A mercenary pilot? Then why did you accept this job?”
Ace tries his hardest not to look to his side, where Satomi was on her side, looking at him.
“They offered me a big amount of money once I’ve successfully escorted you to Valois.”
“Money?”
He nods. “Mercenaries were always paid for what they did. As this was an extraordinary mission that did not require eliminating someone,” he pauses, carefully looks sideways-her gaze did not falter-“then they had to offer compensation that would leave me no room to refuse.”
“Ehh,” she hums, rolling over to face the late afternoon sky. “So it must be bigger than what they usually give you for your missions, right?”
“It is,” he doesn’t hesitate. “When I’ve successfully escorted you into Valois waters they will give me a bag of gold. It should be more than what I usually get for my regular missions… Should be enough for me to start a new life somewhere.”
Satomi sighs heavily. “How nice that must be… To be free from whatever restrictions and expectations from the society.”
The wind blows, blanketing the silence between them.
“Yeah, it should be nice…”
“I bet you’ll also change your name.”
He chuckles. “Perhaps.” And he shrugs, “I’d probably try to buy an airplane, too. I’ve always wanted to fly into the sky.”
“Will you take me with you?”
“Of cour-” and Ace comes to a halt, chances a look at Satomi and finds, much to his dismay, the young lady staring at him directly, openly.
But she has to realize that: “That’s impossible, I’m afraid.”
“Why not?” She’s up from the grass, now looking down at him. “It’s as good as how you’ve flown me out of Wyndham, right? They would never know. We can just disappear and no one would know.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Milady.”
“Satomi,” she grits out, and Ace can detect the frustration in her voice.
He humours her, though. “I can’t do that, Satomi,” he says, closing his eyes as the first rays of the sun begin to disappear. “I have sworn to fly you to safety, at the expense of my comrades who have agreed to become a diversion tactic for me to accomplish my task.
--and I can’t get my compensation if I aborted this mission right before I’ve finished it.”
Ace opens his eyes, and it took him all his willpower not to flinch at the proximity of her face.
“Is that it? Just the compensation?” She glowers at him, “Won’t you even try to help a young girl who was put into a position, into a role that she never really wanted?
Won’t you even consider doing a girl a lifetime favour and allow her to live her life the way she wants to?”
Thankfully she pulls away, turning from him as she gathers her bearings. He’d have tried to do something drastic if she didn’t.
“I’m sorry for acting so child-like,” she sounded just a bit above wheezing, and he gives her the space to gather her bearings before he turns to face her.
“I can empathize.”
The pink and purple splashes on the sky have started to disappear, and the wind that blew around them has grown cooler.
“You know,” Satomi begins, some time after they’ve moved from their place and started preparing for dinner, “you remind me of a little boy I’ve met when I was younger. He said he really wanted to fly into the sky, and I really envied his resolution to become a pilot like his father was. But at that time I was just really looking for someone to dance with, so I kind of duped him into dancing an imaginary Waltz with me by telling him that dancing is the same as flying.
He has the same creepy smile like you do, if I were to be honest-though he has a name, unlike you. His name was Ryo Nishikido.”
Ace stills from his task-starting the fire-takes a deep breath, and then:
“Ah… I see.”
--
“If we continue to travel north-east, by tomorrow we would reach the country of Valois… and then His Highness, The Prince of Valois’ Naval Forces will be awaiting by the Bay.”
He sees her visibly clam up, the gentle, blissful smile that has been on her face the whole day immediately morphing into a frown; and he feels like a grand douchebag, a mean kid who kicked a puppy on the side streets of Wyndham.
But there was little else he could do - he was only asked, tasked to transport the Prince’s Bride from the war-torn Wyndham, whatever it takes -- even at the expense of his comrades-at-arms, who have gone into airspace knowing that they would be used as subterfuge for a covert mission of taking the future princess away from the war.
“Hey… Hey Mr. Ace,” the Lady intones, and he could see the shadows of the campfire playing on her pale, pristine, beautiful face, “you’ll be able to get me across the ocean for sure, right?”
“Yes,” he responds, quicker than his heartbeat, which just about slowed at the reversion to formalities.
The warmth of her hand as it brushed against his on the grass disappeared, and the bonfire that burned until right before dusk only left him cold, unfeeling and alone.
--
It is three hours past noon, and they have landed on water, right where Ace had plotted the meet up point with the Valoisian Naval Forces. Ace opens the cockpit and steps out, standing on the small plane’s wing as it floats on water.
He helps her out of the plane, holding onto her hand far too longer than what was necessary.
And when he tries to pull away, she holds onto him.
“Are you really going to give me away?” Satomi whispers, hands squeezing his, tugging him closer.
Ace knows that Satomi knows just what this is supposed to be-she is his mission, a mission to escort out from the perilous Wyndham, to the impeccably defended Valois, where her intended has been waiting for her.
It was merely coincidental that they’ve met before, when they were younger.
“I was sent on this mission, S-Milady,” he takes a breath, “and my mission ends once I’ve turned you over to The Valoisian Naval Forces.”
Ace feels, rather than sees, her tremble, and then-
“I don’t want to go anymore,” Satomi hiccups, tears flowing freely from her cheeks now. “Please don’t give me away, Ace.”
But you were never mine to keep, he wanted to say, but can never bring himself to say. He was a mercenary, a killer pilot-someone like him should never aim for someone so pure and untainted. Someone like Satomi should stay that way.
This was what he was supposed do: to protect the ones who are untainted, keep them from soiling their hands with the un-washable stench and stain of blood.
Instead he pulls her into his arms, letting her cry into his shoulder, placing a small kiss into her hair.
It lasts all but half a minute, and the telltale spin of the Valoisian chopper tells them that the spell should expire, that this is where it ends.
“They’re here, Milady.” He whispers, finally letting her go.
--
7 years later
The Ishihara family welcomes back their daughter, Princess Dowager Satomi Ishihara, by organizing what nobilities normally do: a banquet ball, in honour of the Princess Dowager, who has decided to come back to her home country rather than stay in Valois where the new King, the brother of her late husband, ruled.
She was widowed at a very young age, and, still being the fairest among the kingdoms of Valois and Arturia and the colony of Wyndham, it was inevitable that her parents had tried, but to no avail, to get their only daughter to re-marry and produce an offspring that would continue the Ishihara line.
But the Princess Dowager was the least bit keen on socializing, keeping to her feet and declining any invitation to dance. To her, there were more important things that she needed to lobby for, such as the charity she has founded that aims to sponsor orphans whose parents have died in the Great War.
She’s seen on her peripheral that there’s someone pointedly walking towards her; and Satomi, ever prepared with her kind refusal, steels herself for another round of skirting an offer to dance.
“Hello, Milady,” the newcomer curtsies, and Satomi’s eyes widen at the familiarity of his voice; when he draws up from his deep curtsy-
“My name is Ryo Nishikido, and I am an aviation enthusiast. Would you do me the favour of having this dance?”
FIN.