The Waltz Squadron.

Three Days Later

Three days had passed since Furina, Clorinde, and Wriothesley had landed at Iron Gale Air Force Base.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Furina could finally breathe.

No longer did the biting winds sting her skin, gnawing at her bones like a relentless beast.

No longer did the deafening howls of blizzards rattle the walls, forcing her into restless, uneasy sleep.

No longer did an endless sea of white and gray stretch beyond the horizon, suffocating her in its vast, colorless expanse.

Now—there was warmth.

Rolling green hills stretched far beyond the perimeter of the airbase, their slopes kissed by golden sunlight.

The scent of earth and salt carried by the coastal breeze, mingling with the faint tang of jet fuel.

The sun beat down on her uniform, its warmth cutting through the lingering chill that had clung to her since Korovograd.

The tarmac shimmered beneath the open sky, a stark contrast to the ice-laden runways she had been forced to endure.

For the first time in a long while—she wasn't trapped in a living purgatory.

She stood inside an open-air hangar, her sharp blue eyes locked onto the machine that had carried her through hell and back—her Dassault Rafale M Évolution.

No longer shackled to the merciless blizzards of Korovograd.

No longer buried beneath ice and snow, beaten down by the elements.

Now, it gleamed beneath the open sky, untouched, unrestrained.

Her one-of-a-kind livery reflected the daylight, its deep blue fuselage shifting seamlessly into sky blue, white, and dark gray along the wings and nose—each color carefully chosen, meticulously placed. A fluid design, mimicking the motion of water in a storm.

Beneath the canopy, the inscription stood bold in sleek, cursive gold lettering:

"Élégante et Efficace."

A name that embodied both grace and lethality.

And on the tail—a golden crown, emblazoned against the deep blue background.

Alongside it, her registration number:

1013-FF.

This aircraft had stories to tell.

Stories of war.

Stories of survival.

Stories of a convict pilot who defied the odds.

Furina smirked, running a gloved hand along the sleek, cold metal of the airframe.

"An experimental prototype meant to push the limits of maneuverability… never meant to enter service. And yet… somehow, it ended up in my hands."

She scoffed softly, shaking her head.

"What a tale to tell, huh?"

She took a deep breath, allowing her gaze to drift across the airbase.

This place felt… different.

Lighter.

Freer.

Gone was the oppressive weight of Drowned Squadron.

Gone was Commander Jakob's unpredictable wrath.

Gone was the constant suffocation of suspicion, where every move she made was watched, judged, questioned.

And in its place?

Captain Jean Gunnhildr.

TAC Name: Dandelion.

Flight Lead of the Primordial Squadron.

A leader who actually listened.

Who actually cared.

Who treated them like pilots, not disposable pawns.

Furina folded her arms, watching the wind ripple across the field beyond the hangar.

For the first time since this war started, she felt at peace.

It was almost… unnatural.

Then—footsteps.

Steady, rhythmic boots against concrete.

Furina turned.

A group of pilots approached, their expressions unreadable.

They moved with purpose, their eyes scanning her Rafale with the kind of silent curiosity that only other veteran pilots could have.

She recognized them immediately.

The Primordial Squadron.

She only knew them by TAC names—until now.

Primordial Two – Outrider

Primordial Three – Tianquan

Primordial Four – Spindrift

Primordial Five – Raiden

Primordial Six – Cullinen

Primordial Seven – Kiongozi

For a moment, silence stretched between them—until Spindrift stepped forward.

Her sharp azure eyes flicked between Furina and the Rafale before she smirked.

"So… this is the infamous Rafale of Waltz."

Furina tilted her head slightly, smirking back.

"Sounds about right."

Then—Spindrift extended a hand.

A gesture of acknowledgment.

A moment of recognition.

Furina glanced at the offered handshake.

For a split second, her mind flashed back.

To Korovograd.

To the accusations.

To the loneliness.

To the months of being treated like nothing but a criminal.

And yet…

That was behind her now.

She reached forward and shook Spindrift's hand.

"Nice to finally meet you, Furina. Name's Lawrence. Eula Lawrence."

Furina's smirk deepened slightly.

"Nice to meet you, Eula."

The moment passed.

Then—Outrider stepped in, practically beaming.

"I'm Amber! It's a pleasure meeting you, Furina!"

Furina chuckled at her enthusiasm.

"Nice to meet you too, Amber."

Then came Raiden, her tone more reserved but equally sincere.

"I'm Ei. Nice to finally meet you, Miss Furina."

Furina smirked.

"Just Furina is fine."

One by one, the rest of the squadron followed.

Tianquan – "Ningguang. Liyue Air Force."

Cullinen – "Collei. From Sumeru. It's an honor, really."

Kiongozi – "Mavuika. Hope we'll get along."

Each handshake. Each introduction.

Furina took them all in—the weight of what was happening finally settling in her chest.

She was no longer just some castaway pilot from a disgraced squadron.

She was here.

Among them.

And this time—

She was exactly where she was meant to be.

The Primordial Squadron circled around Furina's Rafale M Évolution, their eyes tracing every inch of its one-off livery, taking in every fine detail with quiet fascination.

None of them had ever seen a fighter jet quite like this.

The smooth, seamless flow of colors across the fuselage.

The golden crown standing proud on the tail.

The bold inscription beneath the canopy, etched in elegant cursive.

And yet, none of them had realized the full truth.

This wasn't just any Rafale.

This was the Rafale Évolution.

An experimental prototype, built not just for combat—but to redefine what a fighter jet was capable of.

Its upgraded flight control systems, instantaneous sidestick response, reinforced airframe—every inch of this aircraft had been crafted for one purpose.

To dance on the very edge of physics.

To be an extension of its pilot.

And it had ended up in Furina's hands.

The questions started pouring in.

For a brief moment, Furina was reminded of her first landing at Charybdis Air Force Base.

She could almost hear Nocturne Squadron's voices—the same curiosity, the same awe, the same disbelief that this jet actually belonged to her.

But here, at Iron Gale Air Force Base, the questions came from a new audience.

A new squadron.

And this time—it didn't feel like she had to prove herself.

Curiosity Takes Flight

The first to speak was Eula.

Her sharp azure eyes flickered with intrigue as she stepped forward, arms crossed.

"So, Furina... what's with the livery? Usually, fighters are painted in the standard gray."

Furina smirked, her hands casually finding their way to her hips.

"Ah, this? Well, back at the Fontaine Royal Air Force Academy, there was a tradition."

She gestured toward the sleek blend of deep blue, sky blue, white, and gray, the colors shifting in the evening light.

"If you were the top graduate of your batch, you got the privilege of designing your own livery. This… was my result."

Eula nodded slowly, the corner of her lips curling into an approving smirk.

"I see. Seems to me you have an eye for designing things, no~?"

Furina chuckled, tilting her head slightly.

"Yeah, I like to draw. Sometimes."

Her voice softened ever so slightly.

"Sketch the horizons I've seen. Helps me remember where I've been."

The squadron listened intently, absorbing every word. Some exchanged quiet glances—none of them had expected such a personal answer from her.

Then came another question—this time from Collei.

The young Sumerian pilot squinted at the gold lettering beneath the canopy, trying to read it aloud.

"Ele… Ele—gante? et Efficiace?"

Furina snapped her fingers, grinning.

"Good question. That's a bit of a story."

She leaned casually against the nose of her Rafale, a glint of nostalgia flickering in her ice-blue eyes.

"Back at the academy, I was the only girl in my batch. And during our live training exercises, I was always the one getting missions done—fast and efficiently. No wasted time, no bullshit."

She tapped a finger against her temple.

"That's where 'Efficace' comes in."

Then, her smirk widened ever so slightly.

"And 'Élégante'? Well…" she laughed, flipping her silver-blue hair back.

"Let's just say I was also the only pretty girl in the batch."

Collei giggled.

"Ah! I see now!"

The group chuckled, some shaking their heads at her sheer confidence, while a few others muttered things like "Figures."

Then came another voice—this time from Mavuika.

The tall pilot studied the golden crown on Furina's tail before asking:

"And this crown? What does it signify, exactly?"

Furina let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

"What I originally wanted to be."

Eula's brows lifted slightly, curious.

"And that was…?"

Furina smirked.

"An actor."

Mavuika's eyes widened, her head snapping toward Furina in disbelief.

"You what!?"

Furina nodded, crossing her arms.

"When I was a kid, I loved acting. Hell, even singing."

Amber suddenly perked up, her brown eyes sparkling with interest.

"Wait, wait, wait. If that was your dream, then why the hell are you in the Air Force?"

Furina exhaled, her smirk never fading.

"Because of my uncle."

She turned, tapping the side of her Rafale.

The cold metal beneath her fingers sent a familiar shiver down her spine.

"He flew for the Fontaine Armée de l'Air. Same jet as mine. A Rafale."

She patted the reinforced landing gear.

"Not the M variant, though. He flew the C Variant—the land-based version. This one? Marine-use. Strengthened front landing gear, launch bar support, and a reinforced fuselage for catapult launches."

Amber nodded slowly, her enthusiasm still burning.

"Ahh. That makes sense."

Nearby, Mavuika clicked her tongue.

"Hmph. From the stage to the sky… that's a hell of a career shift."

Furina smirked.

"Guess I just traded one spotlight for another."

A Closer Look

As the conversation settled, Eula took a step away, rejoining the squadron as they continued studying Furina's aircraft.

She ran a gloved hand along the fuselage, stopping in front of the integrated ladder leading up to the cockpit.

She turned back to Furina, raising a brow.

"Mind if I step up?"

Furina waved a hand dismissively.

"No, no, go right ahead."

Eula nodded and gripped the ladder, beginning her climb.

As she reached the cockpit, she took a closer look at the HUD, the instrument panels, and the custom flight controls that made the Rafale Évolution so different from standard models.

Even among the elite Primordial Squadron, it was clear—

This jet was something else entirely.

The Optronique Secteur Frontal sensors were integrated seamlessly into the fuselage, providing unparalleled situational awareness. The Thales RBE2-AA radar—Fontaine's crown jewel of avionics—allowed for superior detection and tracking of enemy aircraft. Beneath the wings, MICA IR and EM missiles were mounted alongside a pair of Meteor long-range air-to-air missiles, ensuring dominance in beyond-visual-range combat.

Eula whistled softly.

"Hell of a machine. It suits you."

Meanwhile, the rest of the squadron took a few steps back, admiring the entire aircraft from a distance.

The sleek design.

The striking livery.

The presence it exuded, standing tall under the golden light of the setting sun.

For a brief moment, the world felt… quiet.

And then—Furina felt it.

Something warm.

Something she hadn't felt in a long, long time.

Belonging.

She had spent months trapped in a squadron of criminals.

She had endured accusations, isolation, and doubt.

She had fought tooth and nail to prove she was more than just a name on a kill list.

And now—here she was.

Among pilots who saw her not as a convict.

Not as a scapegoat.

Not as a murderer.

But as a fighter pilot.

As an ace.

As one of them.

For the first time in a long time—

Furina was exactly where she was meant to be.

Right on Cue – A Legacy Reclaimed

The moment Furina finished answering questions about her Rafale M Évolution, she heard it—the sound of boots approaching.

Steady. Purposeful. Familiar.

She turned her head slightly.

Jean Gunnhildr.

The Captain of Primordial Squadron stood at the entrance of the hangar, hands tucked into the pockets of her flight suit.

Her expression was amused, a soft smirk playing on her lips.

"I've been listening to all these stories about your livery, Lieutenant Furina."

Furina chuckled, casting a final glance at her one-off jet before turning fully to Jean.

"Yeah? Well, what can I say? It's got a history."

Jean's smirk widened.

"And it's just Furina still, Captain."

Jean crossed her arms, laughing softly.

"No need to be so formal, Lieutenant. Just Jean will do."

Furina returned the smirk.

"Fair enough."

Then—Jean's posture shifted.

The casual amusement in her eyes gave way to something more serious.

Still warm. Still firm. But different.

A beat passed.

Then—Jean snapped her fingers.

Her voice rang with absolute authority.

"Primordial Squadron, listen up!"

The hangar fell silent.

Every pilot halted what they were doing, their attention immediately shifting toward their captain.

Even Eula, still perched inside Furina's Rafale, peeked her head out of the canopy, curiosity gleaming in her icy blue eyes.

Jean took a step forward.

She stood directly in front of Furina.

Their eyes met.

Then—

Jean smiled.

"Furina de Fontaine… You are hereby reinstated into the Teyvat United Peacekeeping Force."

The words hit like a missile strike.

Furina's breath caught in her throat.

Her vision blurred at the edges.

Her knees threatened to buckle.

She stumbled a step back, her hands flying over her mouth as if the sheer weight of those words would escape her lips otherwise.

Jean continued, her voice steady.

"This letter is official documentation, stating that Furina de Fontaine is to regain her former rank of First Lieutenant."

She handed Furina a sealed envelope.

Then, Jean clapped her hands together once.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant. Welcome back."

The entire squadron erupted into applause.

Furina stood frozen.

The roar of cheers rang in her ears, yet she barely registered them.

She did it.

She actually did it.

Her name had been cleared.

Her rank restored.

A single tear slipped down her cheek.

She wiped it away—quickly, instinctively.

Yet her heart raced, her chest tightening with emotions she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years.

"Finally…" she thought.

Mission Accomplished.

A New Chapter

From the side, Clorinde and Wriothesley watched.

They were smiling, clapping along with the squadron.

Furina turned toward them.

Wriothesley gave her a nod of respect, his smirk unwavering.

"Congratulations, Waltz."

Clorinde followed, her voice steady, almost proud.

"Welcome back."

Furina exhaled—a shaky breath, still struggling to process the gravity of it all.

Jean wasn't done yet.

"By the way," she continued.

"They've been reinstated to Lieutenant as well."

Furina's head snapped toward Clorinde and Wriothesley.

Both nodded in confirmation.

Furina let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.

Everything had changed.

But Jean wasn't finished.

She dropped the real bombshell.

"And... we have a new squadron too."

Silence blanketed the hangar.

The air shifted.

Jean straightened her posture, her voice clear, firm, absolute.

"Our new second squadron's name is..."

Furina held her breath.

Waiting.

Hoping.

And then—

"The Waltz Squadron."

Furina's eyes widened.

Her lungs forgot how to work.

A sharp breath escaped her lips as the words sank in.

She barely had time to process it before Jean continued.

"In recognition of your dedication and distinction, the TSSG, the Teyvat Peacekeeping Force, and the Fontaine Air Force have approved this name."

Jean's smile grew.

"Officially, Waltz… You are Waltz One."

A choked sound left Furina's throat.

Her hands trembled.

The emotions she had buried for so long broke through all at once.

Tears spilled freely down her face.

She didn't wipe them away this time.

Jean continued, her voice unwavering.

"To avoid confusion, let me clarify—when referring to you personally, your TAC name will remain Waltz. But when addressing the squadron as a whole, it will be referred to as Waltz Squadron."

Jean extended a hand toward Furina.

"Welcome to the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group, Lieutenant."

Furina took a deep, steadying breath.

Her hands still shook.

But she reached forward.

And shook Jean's hand.

It was official.

She was back.

Not just as a pilot.

Not just as Lieutenant Furina de Fontaine.

But as the leader of her own squadron.

A squadron named after her.

Waltz Squadron – A New Family

Clorinde stepped up beside her.

Her voice was firm, unwavering.

"I've been assigned Waltz Two. That makes me your wingman."

Then Wriothesley.

"And I'm Waltz Three."

Furina stared at them.

Her new squadmates.

Her new family.

Jean continued, her tone casual yet authoritative.

"The Fontaine Air Force has already issued Wriothesley and Clorinde their own Rafale Ms—both in the standard gray livery. After all, the flight lead has to stand out, right?"

Furina nodded slowly.

Still processing. Still overwhelmed.

"Y-Yeah… I guess so."

Jean chuckled.

"Come on. Let's head inside and give you a proper Iron Gale welcome. My treat, of course."

The squadron cheered as they left the hangar, heading toward a waiting van that would take them to an Italian bistro just outside the base.

As they walked, Jean threw an arm over Furina's shoulder, speaking in a casual tone.

"You're gonna love AWACS Visionaire. He's a foodie. Hell, he even brings some of his own food onboard the E-3 Sentry he's assigned to."

Furina chuckled, shaking her head.

"I'd love to meet him, Jean."

Jean grinned.

"Oh, trust me. You will."

As the squadron walked away from the hangar, Furina took one last look at her Rafale.

Her Évolution.

Her new beginning.

And in two days, they would be off to the deep north for another operation.

But for the first time in a long, long time…

Furina felt no burdens.

No chains.

No doubts.

She was officially reinstated as Lieutenant.

She had her own squadron.

And it was named after her.

Furina de Fontaine had found her new family.