The Check Ride.

With Furina acing her real-life 737 MAX training flight and impressing Chief Pilot Clorinde with her precise touch-and-go maneuvers and full-stop landing, her reputation began to grow rapidly. Word of her performance spread like wildfire among the members of the Pilots Association of Fontaine and even within the ranks of Air Fontania.

Now, three weeks have passed since that eventful day. Furina has since completed six additional simulator sessions, each more challenging than the last. This quiet morning in the suburbs of Narbonnais finds her in her study, flipping through the meticulous notes she has compiled during her training. The soft rustle of paper is the only sound breaking the stillness of the room.

As she closes her notebook, Furina glances at her watch—a well-worn silver Speedmaster with a navy blue NATO strap. The polished crystal glints in the sunlight streaming through the window. It's 10:30 AM. She leans back in her chair, letting out a quiet sigh as she brushes a stray strand of hair from her face.

"I know today's my type-rating check ride," she mutters to herself. "But I still need to wait for Clorinde's message."

The anticipation gnaws at her, but she pushes it aside for the moment. Rising from her seat, she heads to the kitchen, opening the fridge and retrieving a piece of her favorite chocolate.

Smiling as the creamy sweetness melts in her mouth, she murmurs, "Nothing beats a creamy piece of chocolate."

Feeling momentarily satisfied, Furina returns to her room and sits on the edge of the bed. The tension from the upcoming check ride begins to creep back in, so she lies down, resting a hand on her forehead, trying to calm her thoughts.

Right on cue, her phone rings, its vibration rattling against the nightstand. She picks it up and sees Navia's name flashing on the screen.

"Navia?" she answers.

"Furina! How's it going?" Navia's cheerful voice crackles through the line.

"Nothing much," Furina replies, a tinge of weariness in her voice. "I'm just waiting for a message or a call from Clorinde."

"Clorinde?" Navia asks, curious.

"The Chief Pilot of Air Fontania," Furina explains.

"Oh, I see. Well, I was wondering if you'd like to grab lunch somewhere. My treat!"

Furina nods, a small smile forming. "Why not? I've got nothing else to do while I wait."

"Alright! Let's meet at that diner near the city," Navia suggests.

"Sure. I'll see you there," Furina replies before the call ends.

She stands, stretching briefly before heading to her closet. "Better wear the pilot's uniform, just in case Clorinde calls while I'm out," she mutters.

As she changes into her uniform—a crisp white polo shirt, black slacks, and a midnight-blue tie—her gaze drifts toward the garage. The thought of her second car brings a smirk to her lips.

"While I'm at it, I might as well take the Gallardo out for a spin," she decides.

Once dressed, Furina grabs her pilot's bag, locks the house, and heads to the garage. She presses the button on the wall to open the garage door, revealing the silhouette of her prized 2008 Lamborghini Gallardo Superleggera beneath a dust-free cover. The soft hum of the opening door is soon overshadowed by the rush of excitement she feels.

Furina pulls the cover back with practiced care, unveiling the gleaming white paintwork and aggressive lines of the pre-facelift Gallardo. Its 5.0-liter V10 and six-speed gated manual transmission are the stuff of legends.

"Nice to see you again, old friend," she whispers, tucking the cover into a storage bin.

Placing her bag on the passenger seat, she slides into the driver's seat and inserts the key into the ignition. The engine roars to life with a throaty, metallic growl, filling the garage with its thunderous cold start, amplified by the Tubi Style exhaust system.

She reverses out of the garage, quickly closing the door behind her, then climbs back into the car, fastening the snug five-point harness. With one final glance at her driveway in the rearview mirror, she shifts into first gear and sets off.

As Furina approaches the highway on-ramp, the open road ahead tempts her. Her hand instinctively drops to the shifter, and with a satisfying metallic click, she downshifts from fifth to fourth, then third, and finally second. The gated manual's distinct sound echoes in the cabin, each shift deliberate and mechanical.

With her foot firmly planted on the accelerator, the Gallardo's V10 howls, the needle of the tachometer climbing to a screaming 8,000 RPM. Furina grins as she shifts into third, feeling the surge of power as the car rockets forward. The tachometer drops momentarily, then surges again as she shifts to fourth at 7,000 RPM. Easing off the throttle, she's rewarded with a symphony of pops and crackles from the exhaust.

"Never Gets Old," she chuckles, her voice barely audible over the engine's song.

The rest of the drive to the city is calm by comparison, though Furina can't help but let the occasional playful smirk cross her face as she cruises along the highway. Her mind briefly drifts back to the anticipation of the check ride, but for now, she allows herself to simply enjoy the drive.

Minutes pass, and Furina is now seated in a cozy corner booth at a diner in the heart of the city. The midday sun streams through the windows, casting warm rays over her table. Parked just outside, her pristine white Gallardo Superleggera gleams beside Navia's boxy but undeniably aggressive Peugeot 205 T16.

Navia glances through the window, her gaze fixed on the sleek lines of Furina's Gallardo. A sly grin spreads across her face as she takes a sip of her soda. "I didn't even know you owned a Gallardo, Furina. Keeping secrets, are we?"

Furina leans back in her seat, a cup of steaming coffee in hand. She smirks, savoring the aroma before taking a small sip. "I've had it for a while. It doesn't see much action these days, though. Driving it again this morning? Honestly, it makes me want to take it out more often—maybe even more than my Alpine A110."

Navia lets out a low whistle, her eyes darting back to the Gallardo. "No kidding. I mean, I love my T16, but that 5.0 V10 under the hood of your car? It's a masterpiece. Way better than the newer 5.2s, if you ask me."

Furina nods in agreement, setting her coffee cup down gently. "Even firing. It's smooth, balanced—reminds me a lot of the Lexus LFA's V10. There's a soul to it that the newer engines just can't replicate."

Navia leans in closer, her tone shifting. "So, today's the big day, huh? Your check ride?"

"Yeah," Furina replies, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "But I'm still waiting on a message from Clorinde to confirm the time. Should be this afternoon."

They continue chatting, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as Furina finishes the last few bites of her lunch. She takes her time, savoring each bite, when suddenly, her phone buzzes on the table. The vibration makes her heart skip for a moment. Setting her utensils down, she picks up the device and checks the screen. A notification from Clorinde pops up.

Furina's pulse quickens as she opens the message.

"Hi Cadet Furina,

Today is your check ride. Be here at least an hour before 2:00 PM for the briefing.

-Cpt. Clorinde"

She glances at her Watch. The hands read 12:45 PM.

Furina stands abruptly, grabbing her pilot's bag from the seat beside her. "I ought to get going, Navia. Clorinde just messaged me. I need to be at the training center an hour early, and it's already quarter to one."

Navia rises from her seat, stepping around the table to pull Furina into a firm hug. "Good luck, First Officer Furina. You've got this."

Furina chuckles softly, returning the hug. "Thanks. I'll stick to the book. No improvisations."

Navia grins, stepping back but holding onto Furina's shoulders for a moment. "By the book. That's the spirit. Knock 'em dead out there."

Breaking the hug, Furina heads toward the diner's exit, her steps confident and steady. Outside, she unlocks her Gallardo, sliding into the driver's seat. She adjusts the five-point harness with a practiced hand, ensuring it's snug before turning the key.

The 5.0-liter V10 roars to life, its aggressive rumble echoing off the surrounding buildings. Furina glances back toward the diner, spotting Navia through the window. With a mischievous grin, she gives the throttle a quick rev, the engine snarling in response. Navia laughs, giving her a playful wave as Furina shifts into first gear and pulls away.

As she merges onto the street, Furina can't help but feel the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders. The check ride looms large in her mind, but the sound of the Gallardo's engine and the tactile feedback of the gated shifter keep her grounded.

"By the book," she mutters to herself, tightening her grip on the wheel. The city streets blur into the distance as she heads toward Marcotte, her focus sharpening with every mile.

Minutes later, Furina arrives at Air Fontania's Training Centre. The sprawling facility is a hive of activity, with aircraft simulators buzzing in their massive hangar bays and personnel bustling between sessions. She moves through security with ease, her pilot's uniform ensuring quick clearance.

As she steps into the hallway leading to the simulator bays, the faint hum of machinery and the occasional muffled chatter of ATC communications fill the air. Turning a corner, she nearly bumps into Clorinde, who greets her with a warm, professional smile.

"Oh! G-Good afternoon, Captain Clorinde," Furina stammers, nodding respectfully.

Clorinde chuckles lightly. "Good to see you too, Cadet Furina. Ready for the big day?"

"Yes, ma'am," Furina replies, her voice steady but tinged with anticipation.

"Excellent. Come with me."

The pair walks side by side down the hallway, their footsteps echoing faintly. They enter a nearby briefing room, a quiet and focused space where Clorinde sets a clipboard down on the desk before gesturing for Furina to take a seat.

Clorinde's tone becomes serious but encouraging. "Alright, Furina. Today's the day you've been waiting for—your check ride. I'll brief you on what to expect. Sound good?"

Furina nods, leaning forward attentively. "Yes, ma'am."

"This evaluation will test everything you've learned so far. I'll throw various scenarios at you, and you'll need to handle them as you see fit. There might be failures, there might not. Either way, you're acting as Captain today. That means no guidance from me, no corrections during the session. I'll only step in if it's absolutely necessary. Any mistakes will be addressed at the end of the ride. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Furina affirms, her tone resolute.

Clorinde offers a small smile. "Good. Let's head to 737 MAX Simulator #2."

The pair exits the room and ascends a staircase to the second floor, where the simulators are housed. They enter the sleek, dimly lit simulator bay, the massive machine humming with life. Furina pauses for a moment to steady herself, taking in the realism of the cockpit ahead.

Once inside, Clorinde settles into the First Officer's seat, while Furina takes her place in the Captain's seat. The cockpit is a symphony of buttons, screens, and switches, all glowing faintly in the simulated stormy conditions.

Clorinde looks over at Furina, her expression calm and confident. "Good luck, Furina. All the best."

Furina fastens her harness and lap belt, adjusting them to her liking. "Thank you, Captain."

The simulator hums to life, and within moments, the first scenario begins. The aircraft is placed on final approach at Bourou International Airport, 10 miles out from Runway 34L. Outside, simulated rain lashes against the windows, and the aircraft shudders under the force of turbulent winds.

The radio crackles as ATC calls in.

"Fontania Six One Eight Four, winds variable at ten, gusting twenty. Runway Three Four Left, cleared to land."

Clorinde responds calmly, her voice steady. "Runway Three Four Left, cleared to land. Fontania Six One Eight Four."

The autopilot is engaged in autoland mode, making constant adjustments to keep the aircraft steady. The cockpit rocks subtly as the wind jostles the plane.

"One thousand," the GPWS (Ground Proximity Warning System) calls out.

Clorinde glances at Furina. "A thousand feet. Go-around altitude set."

The tension builds as the aircraft closes in on the runway.

"Five hundred."

"Four hundred."

Suddenly, as the altimeter reads 330 feet, a powerful downdraft slams into the plane, causing it to drop abruptly. The autopilot struggles to compensate, but Furina acts without hesitation.

She disconnects the autopilot and presses the TOGA (Takeoff/Go-Around) switch, her voice firm and decisive. "Go around! Unstable approach!"

The engines roar to life as the throttles are pushed to maximum thrust. Furina pulls back on the yoke, guiding the aircraft into a steep climb.

Clorinde immediately radios ATC. "Bourou Tower, Fontania Six One Eight Four. Going around, unstable approach."

"Fontania Six One Eight Four, roger. Climb to flight level three-zero. Maintain present heading."

Clorinde reads it back. "Climb flight level three-zero, maintaining present heading. Fontania Six One Eight Four."

The aircraft stabilizes as it climbs through the stormy skies, the engines humming powerfully. Clorinde makes notes on her clipboard as Furina focuses intently on managing the climb.

Minutes later, after flying through the Go Around procedure. They find themselves back at a similar position, 10 Nautical miles on the ILS approach, to Runway 34L. The winds have calmed slightly, though turbulence still rocks the plane.

ATC radios in again. "Fontania Six One Eight Four, winds variable at six, gusting sixteen. Runway Three Four Left, cleared to land."

Clorinde reads it back. "Cleared to land, Runway Three Four Left. Fontania Six One Eight Four."

Furina takes a deep breath and disconnects the autopilot once more. The cockpit goes silent for a moment after the double chime of the disconnect alarm.

"My aircraft," she announces.

Clorinde nods. "Your aircraft."

The GPWS resumes its calls as the runway approaches.

"One hundred."

Furina places her hand on the throttle lever, disconnecting the autothrottle and manually adjusting the speed to maintain 143 knots.

"Fifty."

"Forty."

"Thirty."

"Twenty."

At the right moment, Furina flares the aircraft, pulling back gently on the yoke while bringing the throttles to idle.

"Ten."

The aircraft makes a firm touchdown, its tires gripping the wet runway to prevent hydroplaning. The spoilers deploy with a mechanical whirr, and Furina carefully lowers the nose wheel.

The plane decelerates steadily, and Furina applies manual braking to bring it down to 30 knots. She exits the runway at Taxiway Alpha Four and holds short.

Clorinde raises her hand with a nod. "That's situation one done, Furina."

Furina exhales and nods back. "Roger."

Clorinde signals to the simulator operator behind them. "Alright, Furina. Let's move on to the second scenario."

The next scenario begins with the aircraft positioned at Runway 26L at Brightcrown International Airport, engines humming steadily in idle. The simulated weather is calm, the early morning light casting a soft glow over the virtual tarmac.

Inside the cockpit, Furina and Clorinde sit in silence, a quiet but focused tension hanging in the air as they await takeoff clearance. Furina uses the time to run through the final checks.

"Takeoff configuration," Furina mutters under her breath as she moves methodically through the items. She checks the trim—set for takeoff. Flaps—confirmed at Flaps 10. Autobrake switch—set to RTO (Rejected Takeoff). Engine ignition—set to continuous.

Finally, she nods with satisfaction. "Takeoff config is good."

Right on cue, the radio crackles to life. "Fontania Six One Eight Four, winds calm, Runway Two Six Left, cleared for takeoff."

Clorinde responds promptly. "Runway Two Six Left, cleared for takeoff. Fontania Six One Eight Four." She glances at Furina. "All yours."

Furina places her right hand on the throttles. "My aircraft."

"Your aircraft," Clorinde confirms.

With practiced precision, Furina pushes the throttles to 50%, allowing the engines to stabilize before pressing the TOGA (Takeoff/Go Around) button. The autothrottle system takes over, smoothly advancing the thrust levers to full power.

"Toga thrust," Furina announces, her left hand steadying the yoke.

As the engines roar to life, the aircraft begins to accelerate down the runway. Clorinde keeps her eyes on the instruments.

"Airspeed alive," she calls out.

Furina glances at her PFD (Primary Flight Display) and confirms, "Checked."

The speed tape climbs steadily. At 80 knots, Clorinde announces again, "Eighty knots."

"Checked," Furina replies, her focus unwavering.

The airspeed continues to rise, climbing through 120 knots and nearing V1 (decision speed). Then, without warning, a deafening bang reverberates through the cockpit, accompanied by violent vibrations.

Furina reacts instantly, slamming the autothrottle disconnect button and pulling both throttle levers to idle. Her hand moves to the reverse thrust levers, engaging them with a firm pull.

"Abort! Abort!" she yells, her voice steady but urgent.

The aircraft decelerates rapidly as the thrust reversers deploy with a mechanical roar, and the spoilers automatically extend, their distinctive sound punctuating the tense atmosphere. The Aircraft quickly decelerates and before they knew it. The aircraft quickly comes to a halt on the runway.

Clorinde immediately radios the tower. "Brightcrown Tower, Fontania Six One Eight Four. Aborted takeoff. Aircraft stopped on Runway Two Six Left."

The tower responds promptly. "Fontania Six One Eight Four, roger. Please state reason for abort."

Furina works quickly to diagnose the issue. Her eyes flick to the on the MFD (Multi-Function Display), and presses on a button to change the engine display to the STAT page, where she notices a glaring red alert—Right side Tire Pressures: 0,0 She exhales sharply and turns to Clorinde.

"Looks like we had the right tires blowout during the roll."

Clorinde nods, her expression calm and measured. She relays the information to ATC. "Brightcrown Tower, Fontania Six One Eight Four. We had our right tires blowout during the takeoff roll."

The radio crackles again. "Fontania Six One Eight Four, roger. If able, taxi off the runway via Bravo Eight and hold short of Tango."

Clorinde reads it back. "Bravo Eight and hold short of Tango. Fontania Six One Eight Four."

Furina disengages the parking brakes and cautiously advances the throttles. The aircraft inches forward, its damaged tire making the taxi sluggish but manageable. She carefully steers off the runway at Bravo Eight and halts just before Tango, as instructed.

Clorinde gives her a thumbs-up. "Session two complete, Furina."

Furina lets out a soft sigh of relief, her grip on the yoke finally relaxing. "Roger."

The check ride continues with three more scenarios, each designed to test Furina's ability to handle emergencies, decision-making, and overall competence under pressure. Finally, after the fifth session, Clorinde raises her hand, signaling the end of the evaluation.

She turns to Furina with a neutral expression. "Okay, Cadet Furina. That's all for now. I'll finalize your scores and get approval from the Teyvat Air Commission representative. Once it's done, I'll call you with the results."

Furina nods, her voice quieter now. "O-Okay, Captain. Thank you."

Unbuckling her harness and lap belt, she grabs her bag and steps out of the simulator. The walk through the quiet halls feels surreal as adrenaline begins to ebb away, leaving a mix of exhaustion and nervous anticipation in its wake.

Outside, Furina decides to head to a nearby café at Marcotte Airport. She orders a caramel frappuccino and walks to the staff parking lot near the training center. Leaning against her Gallardo, she sips her drink slowly, gazing out at the planes taxiing in the distance.

Letting out a deep exhale, she mutters to herself, "Fuck... I'm somewhat glad that's over. I hope I pass…"

The chill of the frappuccino in her hand contrasts with the warmth of the sun on her face. She closes her eyes, the faint rumble of jet engines in the background.

"I hope I get my stripes and wings today…"

She lingers in the parking lot, savoring the moment of quiet reflection before the final verdict arrives.

Inside Clorinde's Office. The room buzzes with quiet tension. Clorinde sits at her desk, surrounded by a representative from the Teyvat Air Commission, Air Fontania's CEO Chevreuse, and Furina's former instructor, and retired Air Fontania pilot, Neuvillette. The atmosphere is professional, but the gravity of the moment is palpable.

Clorinde reviews the final paperwork for Furina's check ride, her brow furrowed in concentration. As she flips through the pages, a look of astonishment spreads across her face. She leans back, exhaling sharply, and brushes a strand of hair from her forehead.

"Unbelievable…" she murmurs, shaking her head slightly. "Not a single mistake. She really does have a natural talent."

The Teyvat Air Commission representative raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean, Miss Clorinde?"

Clorinde swivels the paperwork around to show the others. Her finger taps on the pristine evaluation forms.

The representative's eyes widen as he leans closer. "Wow… That's… spectacular."

Clorinde nods. "No kidding. Furina truly has a gift for flight."

She turns her laptop toward the group, opening recordings from Furina's check ride. "Let me show you something." She clicks on the file for Session One and lets it play.

"Here," Clorinde begins, pointing at the screen, "Session one. We were on final approach at Bourou International during a storm. Low altitude. Winds were erratic. Suddenly, a downdraft hit, destabilizing the approach."

The representative leans in, watching intently. "And?"

"Furina immediately disengaged the autopilot, hit the TOGA switch, and initiated a go-around," Clorinde explains. "Most trainees hesitate in this scenario. They spend a minute or two second-guessing whether to continue or go around. Furina didn't even blink—she knew instantly why the go-around was necessary and executed it perfectly."

The representative nods thoughtfully.

Clorinde clicks on another file: Session Three. The footage shows Furina in the simulator during a climb-out scenario.

"In this session, we had a fuel leak. The right tank was losing fuel rapidly. Furina noticed the discrepancy in the fuel levels almost immediately and called out a fuel quantity check. She then initiated the crossfeed checklist to balance the tanks, but when it didn't work, she recalculated the fuel remaining and realized we'd run out in 30 to 40 minutes."

The representative's eyes widen again. "She deduced that in under ten minutes?"

Clorinde nods, a proud smile tugging at her lips. "Her situational awareness and decision-making are incredible."

Satisfied, the representative takes his pen and signs the paperwork with a flourish. He passes it back to Clorinde. "Well, Miss Clorinde, it's official. She's earned it."

In the Parking Lot

Furina sits in her Gallardo, nervously scrolling through her phone. The seconds tick by agonizingly slow. Suddenly, her phone vibrates with a new message.

Miss Furina. Please report to my office. Thank you.

Furina's heart races. She exhales deeply, trying to steady herself. "Make or break time, Furina."

She glances at her watch—5:30 PM. The hands of her watch feel like they're moving slower than usual.

Grabbing her bag, she steps out of the car, adjusts her uniform, and makes her way back to the training center. After breezing through security, she arrives at Clorinde's office. The glass door looms ahead. Furina hesitates, her hand hovering before she finally knocks.

"Cadet Furina?" Clorinde calls out. "Please, come in."

Furina enters, greeted by the sight of Clorinde, Chevreuse, and Neuvillette. She stands near the door, her hands twitching slightly as she waits.

Clorinde rises from her chair, holding a folder in her hand. "Cadet Furina… please stand right there."

The silence is deafening. Furina's heart pounds in her chest as Clorinde steps forward, her expression unreadable.

Finally, Clorinde speaks. "Cadet Furina… I hereby announce…"

Furina gulps, her breath caught in her throat.

"…that you are officially, First Officer Furina of Air Fontania's Boeing 737 MAX fleet."

Furina's hand flies to her mouth as a wave of emotion crashes over her. She takes a shaky breath, her eyes shimmering.

The room fills with applause as Clorinde, Chevreuse, and Neuvillette celebrate the moment.

"Congratulations, First Officer Furina," Clorinde says warmly. "Please, step forward."

Furina straightens her posture and approaches. Clorinde retrieves the epaulets and a gleaming silver wing pin from her desk. With deliberate care, she unbuttons the shoulder flaps of Furina's uniform, sliding on the epaulets—three gold stripes now adorning each shoulder.

Clorinde then pins the silver wings onto the top of Furina's right pocket. She extends her hand. "Congratulations, First Officer Furina."

Furina takes the hand, smiling through tears. "Th-Thank you, Captain Clorinde."

The group gathers for a photo. Furina grins, throwing up a peace sign with one hand while proudly pointing to her silver wings with the other.

Later That Night

At her home in Narbonnais, the clock strikes 10:00 PM. The house is quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator. Furina sits alone at her dining table, dressed in casual clothes. In front of her lie the silver wing pin and her three-striped epaulets, symbols of her achievement.

She stares at them in silence, the gravity of the day finally sinking in. A single tear escapes and rolls down her cheek. She quickly wipes it away, her voice trembling.

"M-Mission accomplished… Furina…"

She picks up the silver wings, holding them close as a small, proud smile breaks through. She's done it. She's officially a pilot for Air Fontania's 737 MAX fleet.

Outside, the night is calm, and the stars shine brightly—mirroring the bright future ahead for First Officer Furina.