Record of Lorelei: Chapter 13

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Essential items were moved into the air-raid shelter: communication equipment, maintenance tools, high-ranking officers, and the commander. The pilots, including Rui, couldn’t bring their aircraft inside, so they were left outside with only the clothes on their backs.

For now, finding a place to sleep before nightfall was crucial. With beds in short supply, anything that could be repurposed—from panels and tent flaps to broken-down ammunition crates assembled into makeshift kennels—was distributed to the soldiers. Rui and Mikami stood in line, waiting for instructions from a squad member. When asked how many people they were, Rui held up two fingers. They were taken aside and led to a military marching tent. It was little more than a double-layered mosquito net, but the setup was expertly done, offering better protection from insects than the panel sheds.

Mikami brought back three palm trunks, laid them parallel, and placed a panel board on top, quickly constructing a raised floor. Without it, they risked being bitten by scorpions.

After settling in, Mikami went to wash up in the sea as the evening approached. Though he cleaned off the grime, the water reopened the cut on his cheek, causing fresh blood to trickle down. Rui handed him a piece of cotton to press against the wound, something rare enough that no maintenance worker would have carried it.

Rui tried to invite Mikami in a suggestive tone, but he didn't know how to proceed. He knew they would embrace naked, but beyond what he’d seen in erotic prints or contraband books, the specifics of how their lower bodies were supposed to fit together remained a mystery.

His chest felt like it housed a galloping horse. Anticipation swelled to an almost unbearable level, but he didn’t know where to direct this impulse.

Mikami sat awkwardly in a corner of the tent, his expression slightly uneasy. Rui found the idea of admitting his own ignorance too embarrassing, opting instead to trust that Mikami would know what to do. He figured he could simply follow Mikami’s lead. The only real worry was whether Mikami wanted this at all. Rui knew he was an outcast with blue eyes, someone marginalized even among peers. What benefit could Mikami possibly gain from binding himself to Rui? It wasn’t as if Rui could help Mikami’s career or offer anything substantial. Sharing rations or small comforts seemed laughably inadequate in comparison.

It was a hollow feeling, considering how pilots usually boasted about their status.

“If you don't want to, you can leave,” Rui said, just in case.

Making a commitment with him might become a hindrance if Mikami ever found someone else he cared for in the future.

Mikami remained calm as ever. “Are you sure you’re fine with this? If you want to run, now’s your chance.”

“Run?” Rui repeated in disbelief.

Mikami didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he leaned forward, planting a hand on the floor as he reached out for Rui. The mole below his lower lip was clearly visible at this close distance. With their foreheads almost touching and their breaths mingling, Mikami spoke softly.

“I don’t intend to push too far, but I might get carried away.”

There was a quiet menace to Mikami’s words, reminiscent of the day he had driven off the pilots who had harassed Rui. That unique seriousness, combined with an air of controlled ferocity, was enough to make others hesitate.

“I might start thinking no one else should work on your plane but me.”

Mikami hesitated, then sighed.

“Actually… I already think that.”

“Do whatever you like.”

If it was Mikami, Rui didn’t mind. He didn’t want anyone else handling his plane either.

Mikami’s hand settled over Rui’s on the floor. His fingers were long and knotted, with a scar running deep along the base of his thumb. Despite having just washed, Mikami’s fingertips were stained black from oil that seemed to have seeped into his skin. His hands had never been truly clean.

Mikami lowered his gaze and pressed his lips to Rui’s. The unfamiliar sensation made Rui self-conscious, but he let it happen, thinking, So this is what a kiss feels like. Mikami’s lips, soft and persistent, touched his repeatedly. When the inside of their lips met, the sensation was slick and warm, sending a shiver through Rui as he surrendered to the intimacy.

"Open your mouth," Mikami coaxed with the tip of his tongue, but Rui refused. The inside of Rui’s mouth was scarred and distorted from being burned by hydrochloric acid. His upper palate was sunken, and the base of his tongue on the left side was fused to the floor of his mouth. There was a hole near the back of his upper gums where both tooth and gum had dissolved. While the surface appeared fine, the shape of his tongue was drawn tight and uneven, with exposed veins visible in places.

"I won't hurt you," Mikami reassured softly.

Mikami must have mistaken Rui's hesitation for fear. Pain wasn’t the issue; Rui didn’t want to make Mikami uncomfortable. The idea of being seen as disgusting terrified him. He shook his head repeatedly in protest, but Mikami was persistent. It seemed he wouldn’t stop until he understood every part of Rui, even the hidden and damaged ones.

"…!"

Mikami finally eased Rui’s mouth open and gently licked the tip of his tongue. Though the sensitivity in Rui’s mouth was dulled, Mikami's touch sent tingling sensations wherever it landed. As promised, Mikami only caressed his tongue tenderly, as if soothing it. Yet the soft, wet sound of their contact made the hair at the nape of Rui’s neck stand on end, a sensation that radiated through his body. Each time Mikami’s tongue met his own, Rui’s skin erupted in goosebumps. Was he trembling from shame or excitement? Something inside him surged with the desire to know Mikami more intimately.

"Mikami," Rui murmured, repeating his name as Mikami pressed soft kisses to his lips. Each time, Mikami answered, "Yes," with a kind of dutiful sincerity that was so very him.

They lay together on the floor, bodies brushing against one another through their clothes. Their foreheads, lips, and cheeks met, their chests pressed together, and their legs tangled. Rui’s breath quickened with exhilaration. It felt akin to hunger, a ravenous craving that almost brought him to tears. He wanted Mikami, needed him. It reminded him of the desperate, aching hunger after his throat had been burned—when his body begged for sustenance but couldn’t take in a single bite.

His body cried out for relief, every cell crying out for nourishment. He wanted to be filled, to escape the agony of this insatiable yearning. He wanted Mikami.

"…ah," Rui gasped softly as Mikami’s lips pressed against his neck, moving from the nape to his collarbone. Mikami’s mouth traced over the keloid scars scattered across Rui’s skin. The mix of hypersensitive and dulled areas created a strange sensation, as if someone were tracing the uneven terrain of his body. The peculiar combination of tingling discomfort and maddening itchiness sent a shiver down Rui’s spine.

"Does it hurt anywhere besides your throat?" Mikami asked, his lips trailing over the raised scar tissue. He was likely searching for any lingering pain, ensuring he wasn’t causing discomfort.

"Does it look ugly?" Rui asked.

There was no pain, but he still hated it. He had grown used to seeing his scars, but in the beginning, they had been horrific. Bandages soaked with pus and blood, the healing process marked by scabbed-over patches that looked like dark, gnarled tree roots. Even the nurses had winced at the sight, and Rui himself had wanted to cry when he caught glimpses of his own body.

Mikami pressed his lips to the deepest hollow in Rui’s collarbone and whispered, "No. …This may sound strange, but it’s beautiful. Like a mother-of-pearl necklace."

"…There really is something wrong with your eyes," Rui replied, almost incredulous.

Fluorite, mother-of-pearl—Mikami had a way of treasuring the very things Rui found ugly, the things he wished he could throw away. It felt foolish to even entertain such thoughts, yet Mikami’s earnest admiration left Rui embarrassed and flustered. Against his better judgment, he started to think that maybe, just maybe, these scars weren’t as terrible as he believed. He couldn’t help but feel that he was being swept up in Mikami’s gentle but unyielding pace.

"Rui…"

Mikami’s voice, usually so clear and pleasant, began to rasp as his breath grew heavier. It only seemed to fuel Rui’s own excitement, stirring something deeper inside.

Touching Mikami and being touched in return felt good—undeniably so. But from deep within, an inexplicable restlessness began to churn. It wasn’t enough. The closer their bodies pressed, the more unbearable the impatience became, as if something vital was missing. Rui couldn’t identify what he wanted, but the sense of being teased, of being held back from it, made his heart race with frustration.

When Mikami’s hand brushed against the space between his legs, a sharp jolt ran through Rui’s body. For a moment, the gnawing hunger inside him seemed soothed, if only slightly. Yes, that’s it. That’s what he wanted Mikami to do.

Mikami’s lower body was hard against Rui, a firmness he couldn’t ignore. Craving that same sensation again, Rui instinctively pressed his own arousal against Mikami, seeking relief. Mikami’s hand moved to help, unfastening Rui’s pants and loosening the knot of his fundoshi. When the bare skin of his length was wrapped in Mikami’s hand, a sigh of relief almost escaped Rui’s lips.

But it lasted only for a moment. The satisfaction, so brief, faded quickly, leaving the same frustrating hunger to gnaw at him. His body trembled with want. Rui reached out for Mikami in turn, his hand closing around Mikami’s hardness—larger and firmer than his own. The unexpected act drew an uncharacteristically startled sound from Mikami’s lips.

"R-Rui, wait, it’s fine today. I mean, if you touch me there, I’ll, uh—well, it won’t take long."

Before Rui could ask what he meant, Mikami gently removed Rui’s hand, leaving him confused and restless. If that wasn’t allowed, then what was he supposed to do?

Before he could ask, Mikami’s fingers slipped lower, tentatively tracing the sensitive space beneath Rui’s arousal.

"!"

The sensation was shocking. No one had ever touched him there before. Rui gasped, his body reacting instinctively, trying to pull away. But Mikami’s gentle hands held him in place, his touch tender and unthreatening as he stroked lightly along the surface.

Rui’s instincts screamed that this was wrong, that he shouldn’t let Mikami touch him there. His body tensed with a primal fear, but there was something else too—something unfamiliar, muddled with his fear. He couldn’t say what it was.

"Sorry—may I?" Mikami murmured, his voice soothing as he continued his featherlight touches, trying to ease Rui’s tension.

The sensation was strange, ticklish, and disconcerting, leaving Rui unsure how to respond. He wanted to say no, but at the same time, he didn’t. He didn’t know what yes would mean either. What was he supposed to do?

While Rui hesitated, Mikami reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tin container. Flipping it open, he revealed a white cream inside.

"The cream is for maintaining belts and leather goods. It's a product used by tens of thousands of troops back home—"

Rui was confused, wondering if Mikami was about to launch into a lecture about maintenance. But before he could think further, Mikami scooped a bit of the cream with his fingers and touched the same spot as before.

The coldness of the cream was unpleasant at first, but as Mikami spread it over the area, letting his body heat warm it, the discomfort began to fade. Mikami’s fingers smoothed the cream in small, slippery motions, carefully easing a finger inside.

"Ah…" Rui gasped softly, startled but not in pain. Mikami added more cream as he worked, gently pressing deeper each time.

This far inside…? Rui trembled, uneasy yet allowing Mikami to continue. He held his breath, forcing himself to watch Mikami intently, though his eyes fluttered shut reflexively. He fought to open them again, searching for Mikami’s face. Mikami noticed and soothed him, pressing soft kisses to Rui’s lips. As Rui buried his face into Mikami’s neck, Mikami pressed his lips against Rui’s cheek while his fingers worked below—exploring, opening, caressing.

Another finger joined the first. Rui had often noticed the length of Mikami’s fingers while watching him work as a mechanic. Now, those same fingers moved in and out of him, creating a strange, tingling sensation that made his skin prickle with unease. Yet, as the movements repeated, he gradually began to adjust. Wet, sticky sounds filled the air as Mikami continued to stroke and stretch him.

After a while, Mikami paused to ask, "Rui, bear with me for a moment."

"What… what are you doing?" Rui's voice trembled.

"I'm going to… leave a mark inside you, if this works."

"A mark…?"

"A mark, or rather… well…" Mikami hesitated, struggling to find the right words. Finally, he asked, "Rui, have you ever… done this before? Do you have any experience?"

"Are you saying you've done this with someone else?" Rui shot back, his voice sharpening.

"No, never! It's just you," Mikami blurted hastily, clearly flustered by the implication. Yet, as he continued, his words were halting, uncertain.

"You'll… understand afterward. Will that be alright?"

He doesn’t know how to explain it, Rui thought. That was fine. He didn’t need the details. The decision had already been made.

Just go through with it.

"I don’t care. Do it," Rui said firmly, opening his arms toward Mikami.

He didn’t care about the outcome or the explanation—it felt tedious to ask. If this act left an unexpected mark, some trace of their bond, it would only please him more.

Mikami’s reply was strained. "Alright."

He adjusted his own trousers, loosening them. Rui glanced upward and, through a small gap in the tent’s canvas, saw the stars shining in the night sky beyond Mikami’s shoulder.

“I want to take you… to the sky.”

Tomorrow, when dawn breaks. To that place where he always breathes alone. Will it be visible? Will it be something I can feel? Rui thought. I hope so.

“Because I’m alone.”

The vast sky was blue, a loneliness distinct from that on the ground. In the sky, he was truly alone. It wouldn’t be surprising if, one day, he and his Zero Fighter simply dissolved into the azure, their outlines softening and fading, becoming one with the blue like dispersing clouds. He used to long for that. But now, when he was alone in the sky, thinking of Mikami, the loneliness pierced him so deeply that he wanted to cry.

Mikami’s brow furrowed, his expression almost tearful. Rui wondered if Mikami felt lonely too. But before he could ask, Mikami pressed something larger against the place he had been preparing moments ago.

“Take me with you… even if it’s just my soul.”

“Ugh… ah—!”

The moment Rui understood that Mikami was entering him, a sharp pain shot through his body. A heavy, splitting sensation. Just when he thought he couldn’t endure it anymore, he felt himself being stretched further. He was being opened too wide, unable to resist. Something foreign filled him, forcing its way deeper, the discomfort grinding through him. Rui let out a voiceless cry, thrashing against the overwhelming pressure. He wanted to plead for Mikami to stop. This is impossible.

“...Ah, ah… M-Mikami—!”

“It’s alright. Calm down.”

Mikami embraced him tightly, stroking his hair, rubbing his back and waist to soothe him. But the pain was unbearable, like his body was being split apart from the inside, soft tissues threatening to tear.

“Rui… Rui. Can you hear me?”

“It… it hurts… hurts, Mikami!”

“It’s alright. You’ll be alright.”

Mikami repeated the reassurance, carefully applying more of the cream as he adjusted their connection with his fingers.

“Mikami… ah… stop!”

Even as Rui pleaded, Mikami didn’t withdraw. Each movement inside him, slick and deliberate, only heightened the pain. Mikami’s shallow, tentative motions were excruciating as he tried to push deeper.

"Please, don’t be upset. Just a little more..."

“Ah… ah, no… ah!”

Rui felt entirely consumed by Mikami, unable even to draw breath. There was no way to resist as Mikami pushed deep inside him, his hardness navigating the slick walls of Rui’s body. Each motion deepened the intrusion. As Mikami had promised, the initial shock had subsided, and the searing pain that had made Rui want to scream and flee was gone. Yet, if asked what this feeling was, Rui wouldn’t have had an answer.

Tears streamed down his face as Rui glanced at their lower bodies.

Mikami’s hips moved rhythmically between Rui’s legs. He could see Mikami’s hardened flesh buried inside him, and with that realization, his mind blanked, overwhelmed. His entire body pulsed in time with Mikami’s movements, leaving Rui no choice but to surrender to the sensations overtaking him.

It feels like drowning. Rui struggled to breathe and accept Mikami. He could feel the weight of Mikami within him, pressing against his most vulnerable places. Every motion seemed to shatter his pride and defenses, leaving only raw vulnerability in its wake. Wet, intimate sounds filled the space as Mikami brushed against a spot that sent tingling sparks coursing through Rui’s body. Though the sharp pain had dulled to an ache, an unfamiliar heat began to spread, occasionally making his hips jolt with sensitivity.

Was this how it was meant to feel? Rui’s eyes searched Mikami’s face for an answer. In response, Mikami leaned down, pressing his lips to Rui’s parted ones, nodding with reassurance.

A fresh trickle of blood oozed from the cut on Mikami’s cheek, blending with the sweat dripping from his face. The pale pink drops fell onto Rui, mingling with his own sweat and tears. Their fingers interlocked, and their bodies pressed closer, skin brushing skin, as they shared this intimate connection.

“Ah… ugh… no… ah…”

It was an act of desperation. Mikami’s expression twisted with strain as his brows furrowed in exertion. Sweat poured off him in rivulets as he moved inside Rui, his breath labored, every thrust seeking something neither could articulate.

Sweat mingled with their skin, their eyelashes brushing faintly with each strained movement. Rui’s most delicate, private parts were stretched and entwined with Mikami, their bodies grinding together, writhing in tandem.

If this act is what they call a bond, Rui thought, then perhaps that’s what this is.

It was something so raw, so entirely exposed, that Rui couldn’t imagine allowing anyone else but Mikami to experience it with him.

＊ ＊ ＊

The first time Rui sneaked out of the house to buy candy, he was amazed to discover such a world existed. He had felt similarly when he stood in formation with three thousand recruits or when he flew into the sky for the first time during training. But this… this was incomparable to any of those. In his twenty-one years of life, Rui had never known his body could experience something like this. The shock was far greater than the amazement of glimpsing the outside world for the first time.

“...Do other people all do this?”

Half-dazed, Rui murmured to himself.

If people could live their lives looking composed, yet secretly engage in something like this behind closed doors, then perhaps only half of what he perceived in this world was real. It was unbelievable, almost like being deceived. That this kind of act—one that felt like linking organs directly together—existed at all.

A heavy ache lingered deep within his body. Rui now understood what Mikami had meant by “leaving a mark.” Afterward, Mikami had carefully cleaned him, but if such a mark were left, what choice would a man have but to pledge himself? Similarly, what Rui had given Mikami had been taken by him, swallowed and absorbed. Rui’s own "mark" now rested not just in Mikami’s stomach, but perhaps in his heart as well.

“Sorry.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m sorry… I suppose so.”

“‘Suppose?’”

Rui glanced at him, wondering how he could say such a thing after everything they had done. Mikami, looking slightly perplexed.

“I’ve never seen others do it, but… probably. Officially, it might involve something like sharing sake in a san-san-kudo ceremony (wedding ceremony) or having a matchmaker present.”

That seemed impossible. He had no desire to drink sake for such a ritual, and if a matchmaker was necessary, the only candidate would be Kido—but this hardly felt like something he should discuss with Kido. And if such formalities were required, then it was Rui, not Mikami, who should be making the arrangements.

“If a ring is needed, I’ll make one. Or anything else, really.”

Mikami’s offer was earnest, practical—typical Mikami. It was easy to imagine that if Rui asked for it, Mikami might even build a house for him.

“I don’t need anything.”

“But it feels like we should have something.”

“You’re enough, Mikami.”

There was no guarantee that what one wore on their body at the moment of death would follow them into the afterlife. Rather than risk losing something material and regretting it, Rui felt that the mark Mikami had left deep within him was more than sufficient.

Mikami leaned forward, entwining his fingers with Rui’s as they rested on his lap.

“Rui, may I stay by your side for the rest of my life?”

“...?”

The rest of my life. The words snagged on Rui’s heart. He had always believed that as long as he could achieve something significant, it didn’t matter if he died tomorrow. But Mikami’s words seemed to reach beyond tomorrow, hinting at a shared search for something greater. Rui hesitated, unable to offer a similar promise. Yet Mikami’s words felt precious, like a single drop of water falling into a desert—impossible to dismiss.

“Do whatever you want until I die,” Rui finally replied, though it was all he could manage. Whether it was tomorrow or the day after, or perhaps a few days or even weeks from now, he couldn’t say. Rui couldn’t promise to survive for Mikami, but as long as he was alive, he wanted to live alongside him.

Mikami seemed content even with this fleeting answer. He smiled faintly, though there was a touch of sadness in it, and he gently stroked Rui’s cheek once more.

“Just make sure you come back to me.”

Mikami’s way of seeking comfort was truly exasperating.

“...I’ll try,” Rui replied. Inwardly, he justified this effort as a way to stay alive longer so he could fly more missions and rack up more victories. Yet, as Mikami’s large hand cupped his cheek, Rui allowed himself to lean into the warmth and close his eyes.

＊ ＊ ＊

People say that if you have a mole near your mouth, you’ll never go hungry.

He’d heard that since he was little, but to think it would hold true even in this distant southern warzone made him feel both grateful and amazed. He almost wanted to bow to his reflection in the mirror and thank that mole.

“Oh, well, would you look at that.”

Pickled nozawana greens. Chopped nozawana grown in the army’s fields, salted, and sun-dried. It was a portable ration, and just sprinkling it on plain barley rice made it taste incredibly delicious.

“The army’s farming efforts are going well. I hear even the soldiers are getting white rice now.”

Since the electric match incident, Mikami had maintained a personal connection with Matsuda. About a week after that encounter, Matsuda had dropped by with dried steamed rice. All you had to do was pour water over it in a mess tin, and it turned into white rice. Even if you just chewed on it, it eventually felt like eating real rice. It was a welcome gift. Apparently, the electric matches were well-received by the army, and they’d made multiple copies. Afterward, Mikami had visited Matsuda with a gift in return—the navy’s prized delicacy, Irazuko’s monaka, from a supply ship anchored at Truk Islands. Since then, they’d been quietly exchanging food and cigarettes, each boasting about their side’s provisions.

From what Matsuda shared, the Army differed from the Navy, which consumed supplies as fast as they arrived on transport ships. The Army had implemented strict rationing from the start of their southern operations, creating surplus stockpiles. They had also enthusiastically developed farmland in the jungle, earning the nickname "Rabaul Plantation." Their vast fields produced rice, sweet potatoes, vegetables, fruits, tobacco, and even luxuries. The Navy also cultivated fields, but only enough to supplement their rations—it was nothing compared to the Army’s level of self-sufficiency.

“Well… everyone has their strengths,” Kido muttered. As a senior officer, he seemed to have a mild allergy to anything Army-related. He fiddled with a cup of tea brewed from some kind of boiled grass, looking unimpressed.

Having fulfilled his responsibility of explaining the origins of the nozawana pickles, Mikami decided to steer the conversation away from the Army.

“Are you sure about this?”

Kido handed Mikami a glass of whiskey. Mikami wasn’t fond of cigarettes, but he did enjoy alcohol. A drink at the end of the day helped him wake up refreshed, no matter how exhausting the previous day had been.

“It’s because Rui seems to give you so much trouble.”

“Well… that’s… more than I deserve.”

If only Kido could call for him a bit more quietly, Mikami thought, but perhaps that was asking too much.

The harassment toward Mikami had worsened.

Rumors circulated that Mikami was favored not only by Rui but also by Kido. The truth was that Mikami occasionally received luxuries or food that were unattainable in a mechanic’s life. Kido, in particular, had refused requests from other maintenance units to transfer Mikami, saying, “Mikami stays.” Mikami understood it was to keep him close to Rui, and he appreciated it. He was glad to stay in a familiar environment and continue maintaining the aircraft he had poured so much care into. But the word "favoritism" felt like a misrepresentation.

Offering a plate of persimmons brought from the mainland on a transport ship, Kido remarked casually, “Parents bribing instructors at the military academy is only natural, isn’t it?”

“Bribing…”

It sounded distasteful, but it felt closer to reality than the idea of favoritism. The Navy’s officer academy accepted students starting at sixteen, but the Army had a junior cadet school for younger boys. The system aimed to cultivate exceptional soldiers from an early age. The junior cadet school admitted students as young as thirteen. Rui, at thirteen, must have been quite charming—a slender, sharp-eyed boy with a striking gaze. He must have looked splendid in a sailor suit.

Kido smirked, his gaze shifting to Mikami.

"A parent's love mirrors their child's. Rui must’ve been adorable, don't you think?"

Mikami wanted to deny it, but all he could do was nod in agreement.

"…Yes."

He didn't appreciate being teased, but he couldn’t lie either.

Rui was a poor sleeper and even worse at cleaning up after himself. If you paid attention, you’d notice he was also a picky eater. In the Navy, where leaving food behind was not an option, Rui dealt with disliked items by swallowing them whole without chewing. His throat, scarred and narrowed from past injuries, made swallowing large pieces difficult, often forcing him to spit out blood-tinged saliva. Carrots, tropical taro, and something resembling bamboo shoots seemed to be the chief culprits. When Mikami finely chopped these with his folding knife and offered them to Rui, he washed them down like medicine with water. Since they started this practice, the episodes of spitting blood had significantly decreased.

With a personal mechanic at his side, Rui’s flight equipment received special attention. Mikami custom-cut and adjusted Rui's harness to fit his slender frame. He sprayed a faint tint on the upper part of the flight goggles’ lenses to reduce sun glare. He modified the oxygen mask tubing to be detachable and replaced the standard belt with a softer, highly rated one. Mikami, who talked to other units far more than Rui, had access to a broader range of information.

Rui’s lack of complaints about his aircraft wasn’t due to satisfaction but because it was easier for him to endure discomfort or compensate with his skills than to articulate his needs. Mikami began asking careful questions and discovered small requests: the footrest needed to be a bit shallower; the control stick could be adjusted to feel heavier. They were trivial fixes. When Mikami fulfilled them, Rui’s face lit up with excitement, his sparkling eyes a charming reward. So he does love planes after all, Mikami thought, though Rui’s requests often leaned toward short-term enhancements.

Mikami watched over Rui’s meals, woke him from nightmares, and kept an eye on his Zero fighter until the last minute before takeoff. His role had become one of ceaseless care, from dawn until nightfall. And though Mikami’s dedication resembled that of a parent bird tending to its chick, it wasn’t the kind of affection others labeled as favoritism.

Kido eyed Mikami with an amused smile as he poured a drink.

“Think you can renounce Lorelei?”

Mikami paused for several seconds before answering.

“…Not yet.”

Recently, Mikami had stayed close to Rui’s plane right up to takeoff. He thought they had finally quashed the problem until a mechanic from another team came to “deliver” something. It turned out to be that U-shaped part. Mikami accepted it with a smile and immediately had it sent to scrap. By now, it was probably melted down and turned into something else.

For now, the part was thwarted, and Rui wasn’t as forceful about it as before. But Mikami knew Rui hadn’t given up entirely. He couldn’t afford to lower his guard.

Kido plucked a second persimmon from the plate with his fingers.

“Do you remember what I told you when we first talked about Rui, Mikami?”

—Even if Rui dies, it won’t be your fault in the slightest.

This time, Mikami couldn’t respond. He couldn’t bring himself to agree, nor did he dare to treat it as the dark joke it had once been.

He just wanted Rui to come back alive.

Yet, every time a sortie approached, Mikami's anxiety was cast aside as the Zero lifted off the runway.

“You’ll lose your soul when he crashes.”

Akiyama had once said that a mechanic’s “soul” was their devotion and skill poured into the plane. Mikami used to believe that. Now he felt like his actual soul was at stake. Part of him even wished it would be taken, so long as it brought Rui back safely.

As Kido ate his persimmon, he looked at Mikami thoughtfully and spoke with quiet sincerity.

"When you came along, Rui finally, for the first time, received something real—human affection."

“Doesn’t he have you, Kido-san?”

“That’s not the same. Rui’s ability to accept people’s hearts is extremely limited. Even the slightest hint of calculation or pity, and those blue eyes will see through it in an instant.”

Was Kido suggesting that no matter what he gave, Rui wouldn’t accept it? There was a brief pause before Kido continued.

“He’s only ever known resentment and hatred—I truly believed he’d die just like Lorelei. So this is nothing short of astonishing.”

“I think he should just keep on living,” Mikami replied.

The present was always the starting point. No matter Rui’s past or the nickname people gave him, he could rebuild from today. If he tries his best, surely everyone will come to accept him. He says he doesn’t want to return to the mainland, but once the war is won and the country is celebrating, no one will even remember his father’s disgrace. Everything will change.

Kido set a shiny, rounded persimmon seed on a dish and bit into the amber-colored fruit.

“You’re absolutely right. But everything Rui has been through up until now is beyond what any human could reasonably fathom.”

That’s true, Mikami thought. He’s survived unimaginable misfortune to make it this far. Mikami could only guess how painful it had been from what little Rui had shared. It was undoubtedly worse than anything he could imagine—unthinkable suffering, days of humiliation and despair.

If only he would tell me everything that happened, Mikami thought. Even the cruel, unbearable parts that make me want to cover my ears, even the moments when he felt wretched. At the very least, I want to be the one to listen, to stay by his side and share the weight.

“Don’t let yourself get hurt, Mikami,” Kido said suddenly, his tone cold in a way Mikami had never heard before. “Rui… he can’t help it.”

What did he mean by that? Before Mikami could ask, Kido dropped the subject entirely.

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