December 4th
Days had passed since the defense of Marcotte City.
Days since Teppei's death.
It was a somber day.
The skies over Inazuma mirrored the mood of those below, thick with a heavy gray overcast, as if the heavens themselves mourned.
The pilots of Wolfsbane Squadron flew to Inazuma.
Not to visit.
But to bury a brother in arms—Teppei.
Teppei had been killed when his F-14A was shot down during the battle over Marcotte City, his jet spiraling out of control before crashing into the empty stadium where the Vice President of Teyvat had given his speech only hours earlier.
As per the request of Teppei's family, his body had been transported from Fontaine to Inazuma's Watatsumi Island, where he would be laid to rest in the small village of Bourou.
Teppei had been the first Inazuman to ever serve in the Fontaine Air Force.
Originally destined for the Inazuman Air Force, fate had redirected him into Fontaine's service instead.
And now, despite Wolfsbane Squadron being stood down for the time being, the war outside Inazuma raged on. Ground forces were inching closer to Natlan's capital, and an operation to seize the fortress at Chuwen—the final line before the capital—was already underway.
But here, today, none of that mattered.
The sun was already dipping toward the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and gray as dusk descended.
The Watatsumi National Cemetery was crowded—Fontainean military officials, Inazuman dignitaries, and countless others had gathered. Rows upon rows of dark uniforms, polished boots, and silent salutes.
Emilie, Mona, and Ayaka sat quietly at the very front, the place reserved for immediate comrades-in-arms.
Emilie clenched her black formal uniform pants tightly in her fists, her head bowed, struggling to hold her emotions at bay.
She barely listened to the speaker—one of Teppei's family members giving a heartfelt testimonial.
Her thoughts churned, the guilt gnawing at her.
I'm so sorry, Teppei...
I should have been there...
It's my fault...
I should have swooped in... taken down that damn Eurofighter...
I could have saved you...
She squeezed her eyes shut.
The family member at the podium finished and stepped down.
The host of the ceremony returned to the microphone.
"May I now call on Captain Emilie, of the Fontaine Air Force's Wolfsbane Squadron, for her testimonial."
Emilie slowly raised her head.
The words barely registered.
Still, she stood.
Her legs felt heavy—like stone pillars—as she made her way toward the podium.
The host stepped aside respectfully and handed her the microphone.
Emilie stood there for a moment, breathing in, before lifting her gaze to the crowd.
Her voice cracked slightly as she began.
"Teppei..."
She paused, her eyes flickering to the casket draped in the Teyvat flag.
She swallowed hard and looked back at the gathered mourners.
"One of the best people I've ever met in the Air Force.
Energetic...
Kind...
Goofy, even when the world was falling apart.
When the room was heavy... when silence felt unbearable...
He would always find a way to brighten the mood.
He was the light that made us smile."
She managed a weak, fleeting smile.
"He loved his rock 'n' roll music. Loud as hell.
We'd joke that we could hear it through his helmet during missions."
A few chuckles stirred quietly among the mourners.
"Even during combat sorties, when everything demanded absolute focus, he was there... cracking jokes... reminding us we were still human."
Her voice wavered.
"He spoke so much, Captain Candace gave him a nickname.
'Motormouth.'
Why? Because he never stopped yapping—and I mean that in the kindest, most loving way possible."
She let out a shaky breath.
"He shared his passion for flying with anyone who'd listen.
He grew up on Watatsumi Island—an island with a heartbeat of fighter jets, like Petrichor back in Fontaine.
He dreamed of flying F-15s... F-16s...
And he made it.
Teppei..."
She stepped forward, reaching out, placing her hand gently atop the casket.
"I hope you've found peace..."
A tear slipped free, trailing down her cheek unchecked.
"And I hope... I hope you're flying even higher now...
Fly high... Motormouth Herring."
Gently, Emilie set the microphone down on the podium and returned to her seat between Mona and Ayaka, her head bowed low once again.
The host stepped back up.
"Thank you, Captain Emilie.
We will now proceed to the burial procession."
Fontainean and Inazuman military officers approached the casket.
With reverence, they folded the Teyvat flag.
First lengthwise, then again, before meticulously folding it into a perfect triangular point.
The movements were sharp, deliberate—etched into tradition.
One officer then approached Teppei's parents, presenting the folded flag.
Teppei's father received it, his hands trembling slightly as he clutched it to his chest.
The officer offered a sharp salute before stepping back.
Across the cemetery, a line of honor guards stood ready.
They raised their rifles skyward.
A crack split the air—the first of an eight-gun salute.
Each shot rang out like a hammer blow against the hearts of those gathered.
As the final shot echoed into the misty air, Emilie stood once more.
She walked to the casket.
From her coat, she removed the Fontaine Air Force wings pin.
She placed it gently atop the wood, then, without hesitation, brought her fist down, driving it into the casket, embedding the pin deep into the oak.
She rested her hand on the casket one last time, bowing her head in silent prayer.
Then she straightened, offering Teppei one final, tear-streaked salute.
She returned silently to her seat.
An Inazuman officer followed.
He removed his own pin—the wings of the Inazuman Air Force—and repeated the same solemn ritual, punching it into the casket with quiet force before saluting sharply.
Emilie lifted her eyes skyward as a distant roar filled the air.
Four F-15J Eagles pierced the sky overhead, smoke trailing from their wingtips.
The funeral attendees immediately stood at attention and saluted.
The formation streaked low across the cemetery—then, in a heartbreaking moment, the second jet from the right broke formation, pulling sharply upward with afterburners blazing.
The Missing Man Formation.
A silent, burning tribute to a fallen comrade.
Emilie slowly dropped her salute, bowing her head.
The casket was lifted onto the mechanical lowering system.
With a gentle whir, it began its slow descent into the earth.
Down...
Down...
Into the embrace of Watatsumi Island's soil.
Into memory.
Into history.
Soon, the funeral was over.
But the ache remained.
Teppei was gone.
But his spirit would forever soar among the clouds.
Everyone had left.
The sun hung low, bleeding golden hues across the calm waters near the cemetery's shoreline. The war still raged beyond these lands—but here, silence ruled.
Emilie, Mona, and Ayaka walked along the sand, their formal Air Force coats trailing behind them in the salty breeze. Mona and Ayaka trailed a few steps behind Emilie, giving her space. Emilie's gaze was distant, her footsteps slow and heavy, as if every step carried the weight of the day.
Ayaka leaned closer to Mona, whispering with concern, "You think Captain Emilie will be okay?"
Mona nodded softly, her voice low and steady. "She'll come back to us... She just needs time to process all this."
Ayaka sighed, folding her hands in front of her as she stared at Emilie's back. "It reminds me of the story of Emberhowl... after the battle, when the fire spirit fell into a deep slumber."
Mona's eyes softened. "Yeah... after the slumber, Emberhowl returned. Stronger. Fiercer. Right now... we're in that period of slumber."
Up ahead, Emilie finally stopped.
She turned toward the sinking sun, the final light of the day setting the horizon ablaze. Slowly, Emilie removed her glasses, slipping them into the pocket of her uniform jacket. The wind caught her hair, whipping it across her face as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the sea air.
She exhaled—slowly, heavily.
Then, in a low voice, rough with anger and grief, she muttered, "This war will end..."
She opened her eyes, glaring at the horizon as if she could see the enemy through the fading light.
"Even if it kills me..."
Her fists clenched at her sides.
"I will show them..."
"What a demon really can do."
Mona took a cautious step forward, her boots crunching softly in the sand. "Emilie..."
Emilie snapped her head around to look at her, anger flashing in her usually calm eyes.
"I'm dead serious," she said, voice hard as iron.
"The Nats think they can just kill one of us and walk away?"
Her hand rose, trembling with emotion.
"No."
"They want to see a demon?"
She turned fully to face them now, her figure silhouetted against the gold and crimson sky.
"Then we'll show them."
A fire had returned to her voice now, burning stronger with every word.
"We'll show them what the true Emberhowl can do."
Mona and Ayaka exchanged a glance—neither smiling, neither speaking.
They saw it.
The fire had not gone out.
It was only getting started.