Guilty Of Murder

Three Weeks Later – Charybdis Air Force Base

Another day dragged on.

At first glance, Charybdis Air Force Base looked like it had moved forward.

Fighter jets thundered down the runways.

Mechanics worked tirelessly on battered aircraft.

The control tower barked orders over the radio, unyielding.

War didn't stop.

Not for grief.

Not for mistakes.

Not for fallen soldiers.

Beyond the perimeter fence, the town that had once been vibrant was still clawing its way toward recovery.

The scars of last month's bombings remained.

Scattered construction equipment littered the streets.

Half-repaired buildings loomed over craters, their shattered frames frozen in time.

Blackened scars still marred the earth, grim reminders of devastation.

The air reeked of war.

Scorched metal.

Burnt fuel.

Dust and debris from collapsed homes.

Charybdis had moved forward.

But not everyone had.

A Mission That Should Have Changed Everything

Nocturne Squadron and Tidal Squadron had returned from the failed mission.

Operation Sovereign Shield.

The mission that was supposed to turn the tide of war.

The mission that was supposed to save Former President Imena.

The mission that should have been their redemption.

Instead, it had ended in disaster.

And Furina knew the truth.

Down to her very bones.

Ms. Imena hadn't died in an accident.

She hadn't died because of bad luck.

She had been murdered.

Someone in the sky that day had fired the third missile.

And yet—the world blamed her.

The official report claimed Furina De Fontaine, TAC name Waltz, callsign Tidal Two, had fired the missile that destroyed the V-22 Osprey.

She was the closest to the aircraft.

She had fired two missiles at the drones behind it.

But she knew her aircraft.

She knew her targeting system.

She knew how her damn missiles worked.

She saw the two drones explode.

She saw the two fireballs.

She had never fired a third.

Yet here she was.

Court-martialed.

Dishonorably discharged.

Stripped of her rank.

As if the war tribunal hadn't even bothered to dig deeper.

Her career—over.

Her squadron—lost.

Her freedom—stripped away.

And worst of all—

Her wings were gone.

The Shoreline – A Place to Grieve

The sun dipped toward the horizon, bleeding deep hues of orange and violet across the sky.

Furina walked alone.

A cold wind swept in from the sea, biting at her skin, yanking at her long dark hair.

She barely felt it.

This part of the base—isolated—was far from the runways, the hangars, the busy airmen.

No roaring jets.

No clipped orders over the radio.

No sound of war.

Just the sea.

Dark.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

Just like the situation she found herself in.

Her uniform felt heavier than ever.

No longer the flight suit she had worn into battle.

Now, she wore the formal dress attire of a disgraced officer.

A white long-sleeve polo beneath a black military coat.

Pressed black pants.

Small-heeled boots that crunched against the rocky shoreline.

She stopped walking.

And for the first time since the trial ended—

Her legs gave out.

She dropped onto the jagged stones lining the shore, knees slamming into the cold earth.

The sound of the waves filled her ears.

A slow, rhythmic reminder that time was still moving forward.

Even though her life had come to a full stop.

The Trial – A Fate Already Decided

Her trial had ended today.

She had stood before the Teyvat United Peacekeeping Force's military tribunal for hours.

Listening.

Not fighting.

Just listening.

As they stripped her of everything.

Court-martialed.

Discharged from her squadron.

Stripped of her rank.

And the worst part?

She couldn't even fight back.

The sentence had already been decided before she even stepped into that courtroom.

Her hands curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as she stared blankly at the sea.

"Fuck…"

A single word.

Soft.

Broken.

The Weight of Loss

It had all happened so fast.

Her callsign—Tidal Two—was no more.

Her squadron—her family—was gone.

Her wings—her purpose—ripped away.

It was over.

She let out a shaky breath.

Her entire body trembled.

Not from the cold.

Not from exhaustion.

From everything.

The weight of betrayal.

The weight of a crime she didn't commit.

The weight of being completely, utterly alone.

They had taken everything from her.

And now—

She was just a fallen pilot.

A murderer.

Or at least…

That's what they wanted the world to believe.

And Yet…

She should have accepted it.

Should have let it break her.

Should have sunk beneath the weight of it all.

But something inside her burned.

Somewhere deep.

Somewhere darker than before.

A rage she hadn't felt before.

Because she knew.

She knew she hadn't fired that missile.

She knew the truth was out there.

She knew someone else had done it.

And if the military tribunal wouldn't seek justice—

Then she would.

Her hands, still clenched into fists, finally relaxed.

The wind howled around her.

The sea roared.

And in that moment—

She made her decision.

They took everything from her.

But they forgot one thing.

She was still alive.

And she would find the truth.

The Tribunal Hall – A Place Without Mercy

Furina's mind spiraled, sinking into the depths of the trial.

The courtroom had been packed.

Officers.

High-ranking officials.

Military personnel.

No media coverage.

No cameras.

No journalists scribbling notes.

Because, officially, this trial didn't exist.

The death of Former President Imena had been classified—her fate neatly filed under:

"Aircraft accident during an attempted escape."

A sanitized lie, fed to the public like a well-crafted story.

But inside this dimly lit tribunal hall...

The truth wasn't being found.

It was being decided.

By men in suits.

By officers who had never flown the skies she had bled to defend.

She wasn't sitting in this room as a decorated Air Force pilot.

She wasn't sitting here as an Ace.

She sat here as a defendant.

And the Teyvat Peacekeeping Union was the plaintiff.

They didn't want justice.

They wanted a scapegoat.

The Weight of Judgment – Witnesses Called

She sat at the front-right of the room.

Back rigid.

Hands clenched beneath the table.

Jaw locked so tight it hurt.

Her uniform felt heavier than ever.

She wasn't alone.

Her former squadmates were there.

The Nocturne Squadron.

The Tidal Squadron.

Even figures from her early years at the Fontaine Royal Air Force Academy.

Familiar faces.

People who had trained beside her.

People who had fought beside her.

People who had trusted her.

They were here.

But that didn't mean they could stop what was coming.

She already knew how this would end.

Her Former Trainee Commander

The prosecutor—a cold-eyed man in a pristine military uniform—stood with his hands neatly folded behind his back.

His voice was steady.

"What was Lieutenant Furina like as a person?"

Her former commander answered without hesitation.

"She was an angel."

No sarcasm.

No uncertainty.

Only truth.

"Very kind. Always willing to help. But when it came to the task at hand? She was sharp—serious. She took every mission as if lives depended on it. Because they did."

He leaned forward.

"And more than that—she adapted. She learned fast. She thought on her feet. If there was anyone I trusted to make the right call under pressure, it was her."

The prosecutor nodded.

Expression unreadable.

"And during her training?" he pressed.

"Any disciplinary infractions? Any concerning behavioral issues?"

Her commander shook his head.

"None."

"She was one of the best cadets we ever had."

"If you asked any of her classmates, I doubt any of them could tell you a single bad thing about her."

Not a single misstep.

And yet, here she was.

The Charybdis Air Force Base Commander

The next witness.

The base commander.

The prosecutor stepped forward.

"Commander, tell me—when did you first meet Lieutenant Furina?"

The commander exhaled, gaze flicking toward Furina before answering.

"She was eager to serve. She had a fire in her eyes."

"She came from a family of aviators—her uncle flew for the Armée De L'Air before he retired."

"She had every reason to join the Air Force, but more than that? She wanted to. And from the very beginning, I knew she had the soul of a fighter pilot."

The prosecutor let silence stretch before delivering his next question.

"And did she deliver?"

A pause.

Then, a firm nod.

"Without question."

"In her first three sorties, she earned Ace status."

"She's shot down over fifty confirmed enemy aircraft."

"In our most recent operations? She was instrumental in securing air superiority."

The prosecutor's lips curled into a smirk.

"One of those fifty being the Former President?"

The Commander's face darkened.

"No."

"She did not fire that missile."

Silence.

The room felt colder.

Furina kept her expression neutral, but inside, her stomach twisted.

It didn't matter.

Her Flight Lead – Lyney

The next witness.

Lyney.

The prosecutor didn't waste time.

"Tell me, Mr. Snezhevich—Lieutenant Furina. What was she like on the battlefield?"

Lyney straightened his back.

His voice was firm.

"If you asked anyone in Nocturne Squadron? Or anyone in Tidal Squadron? They'd tell you the same thing."

"Furina is one of the best fighter pilots we've ever flown with."

"Maybe one of the best we've ever seen."

The prosecutor raised an eyebrow.

"Do tell."

Lyney didn't hesitate.

"Outside the cockpit? She's kind. She's lighthearted."

"But the second she straps into that seat and takes off? She's a different person."

"She's a predator."

"When she fights, she fights to win."

"When she maneuvers, it's with precision."

"And when she's in danger? She pulls off moves that most of us can't even think of pulling off."

The prosecutor tilted his head.

"Determined, you say? Determined enough to execute a maneuver to assassinate the Former President?"

Lyney's voice turned sharp.

"No."

"Determined enough to evade missiles."

"Determined enough to avoid being shot down by an enemy jet."

"Determined enough to dodge drones that move like wasps."

"She doesn't execute maneuvers for the hell of it."

"She does them to survive."

The Verdict – A Life Erased

One by one—

They called witnesses.

From squadmates to Dassault Aviation engineers to the very people who painted her Rafale's livery.

Every single one of them stood in her defense.

It wasn't enough.

The judge rose.

His expression unreadable.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?"

A jury representative stood.

A single sheet of paper in his hands.

"Yes, Your Honor."

Furina's hands clenched beneath the table.

A part of her wanted to believe—just for a second—that maybe, just maybe…

"We, the jury, find Lieutenant Furina De Fontaine..."

Time stopped.

Her breath caught.

"Guilty of murder."

Her heart stopped.

Her blood ran cold.

The words felt distant.

Like they had been spoken in a vacuum.

Like reality itself had fractured.

The judge's voice cut through the silence like a knife.

"Lieutenant Furina, you will be reassigned to the Spare Squadron—Drowned Squadron—at Krovograd Air Force Base."

"Your departure is tomorrow."

The gavel struck.

A dull, final sound.

It was over.

Her life, as she had known it—

Gone.

The gavel struck wood.

Her life was over.

Then—her mind snapped back to reality.

Her body trembled.

Her shoulders shook violently.

The tears had already started falling.

She hadn't even realized it until her vision blurred—until the warmth of her own breath shuddered against her sleeve.

She hunched forward, arms wrapping over her head, face buried in the fabric of her uniform.

Her voice came out in a choked whisper.

"I... I'm done for..."

A broken sob tore from her throat.

"My career... It's over..."

Her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.

"Someone... just shoot me..."

Then.

Footsteps.

Soft. Hesitant.

She didn't bother looking up.

She didn't have to.

She knew exactly who they were.

Nocturne Squadron.

Tidal Squadron.

The only family she had ever known.

The only ones who stood by her.

Lynette let out a heavy sigh, her voice thick with guilt.

"Furina... I-I'm so sorry..."

Furina didn't respond at first.

Slowly, she pushed herself up.

Her head stayed bowed, her body tense—like she was barely keeping herself together.

"It doesn't matter."

Her voice was flat.

Emotionless.

Dead.

"This is the consequence. And I am forced to face it."

Lyney stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

His grip was gentle—but firm.

Like he was afraid she'd shatter if he held too tight.

"Don't think like that... We know you didn't fire that missile."

Then—

She snapped.

Furina ripped herself away from Lyney's grip, stumbling backward, turning on them wildly.

Tears still streamed down her face, but now—her eyes burned with fury.

She shouted, voice raw, broken—filled with nothing but rage and pain.

"THEN TELL ME!"

Her voice cracked.

"THEN TELL ME! WHY AM I TO BLAME!?"

The silence shattered beneath her screams.

"IS IT JUST BECAUSE I WAS TOO CLOSE!?"

"IS IT BECAUSE I FIRED A MISSILE TOWARD A DRONE—TO SAVE OUR GODDAMNED PRESIDENT!?"

Her breath hitched.

She clawed at her chest, as if physically trying to keep her heart from tearing apart.

Her voice wavered, breaking under the weight of it all.

"OR... OR... OR MAYBE BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T EVEN BOTHER TO LOOK AT THE ONBOARD FOOTAGE OF MY AIRCRAFT!?"

She whipped around, pointing toward the hangars, her entire body shaking.

"MY PLANE IS RIGHT FUCKING THERE!"

Her scream ripped through the cold night air.

"IN THE HANGAR!"

"SITTING THERE! SILENTLY! AVAILABLE AT ANY TIME!"

A sharp breath.

Then—

A sob.

Her knees buckled.

She collapsed onto the cold, rocky ground.

Her voice fell to a whisper.

"If the President hadn't fucking turned around… this wouldn't be my fucking nightmare..."

She sank forward, hands digging into the dirt beneath her.

Her body trembled.

Her chest heaved.

Then—

She broke.

A choked, gut-wrenching sob tore from her throat.

Louder.

And louder.

And louder.

Until the dam she had so desperately tried to hold back—

Completely shattered.

Lynette dropped to her knees beside her.

Slowly. Carefully.

She reached out—placing a hand on Furina's shoulder.

Then, without hesitation—

She pulled her into a hug.

Furina fell into her arms, still sobbing.

Her tears soaked through Lynette's uniform, but Lynette didn't care.

Because right now—

Furina needed her.

And then—

Lyney joined.

Then Nocturne Squadron.

Then Tidal Squadron.

One by one—

They surrounded her.

They held her.

They gathered around her, a silent, unwavering wall of support.

Because even if the world had turned its back on her—

They never would.

Furina's time as Tidal Two…

Her time at the 405th Air Force Squadron…

At Charybdis Air Force Base…

Was over.

Tomorrow—

She was heading to Krovograd.

To serve her sentence.

For how long?

No one knew.

But the only thing that mattered now—

Was that she would not be flying as an Ace anymore.

No.

Tomorrow—she would be flying as a Spare.

As one of the Drowned.