The Waltz's Reunion
Marcotte Air Force Base
06:25 AM
The airfield was alive with motion.
It was the first day of the eight-day-long air show—a massive event commemorating the 15th Anniversary of the end of the Snezhnayan-Teyvat War.
The official opening was at 08:00, with the ceremonial proceedings scheduled for 08:30.
The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the rows of aircraft stationed across the massive tarmac. The crisp morning air carried the sounds of powerful engines being prepped, crew members shouting orders, and fuel trucks rolling across the runways.
The entire base was buzzing with activity.
And within a sealed hangar, hidden from the world—
Furina's Rafale awaited its moment.
The Final Touches
Inside the hangar, Grace's team was in full motion, meticulously ensuring Furina's Rafale was flawless before the grand reveal.
There was no room for error.
Not a single streak of dirt. Not a single speck of dust.
Armed with microfiber towels and spray bottles, the team worked with surgical precision, each member tackling a different section of the aircraft.
Grace lay flat on her stomach atop the wing, wiping the surface with firm, methodical strokes. Her voice, slightly muffled against the metal, carried urgency.
"We need to be done by seven. We're running out of time."
Aether, perched on a ladder by the vertical stabilizer, let out a sigh as he rubbed at the sleek tail section.
"No kidding. But isn't it already clean enough?"
Lumine, stationed at the front, wiped the canopy in slow circles, frustration clear on her face.
"You think you have it bad? I'm the one dealing with dead bugs. Archons Almighty, where the hell did these even come from?"
Serval, scrubbing near the engine exhausts with a blackened cloth, let out a dry laugh.
"Try cleaning carbon deposits, Lumine. You thought you had it bad? I've been scrubbing this shit off since we got here."
Himeko, standing near the hangar entrance with arms crossed, sighed before facepalming.
"Stop complaining and get on with it. You're almost done anyway."
Despite the grumbling, the team worked relentlessly.
Each wipe of the cloth, each polished panel, each final adjustment brought them closer to history.
Soon—Furina's Rafale would be unveiled to the world.
Early Arrivals – Nocturne Squadron's Visit
Beyond the airfield fences, the first visitors began trickling in.
Among them—three familiar figures dressed in semi-formal Air Force uniforms.
Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet.
Once members of Nocturne Squadron.
Now members of Waltz Squadron.
Dressed sharply in white polo undershirts, black coats, and black trousers, they carried the unmistakable aura of distinguished guests.
As they strolled down an opposing taxiway, their eyes drifted toward the runway—
And they stopped.
A stunning Elephant Walk stretched down the length of the airstrip—rows of aircraft, neatly arranged in formation.
Teyvatian and Snezhnayan warplanes, standing together in silence.
A monument of power, history, and peace.
Lynette, hands tucked in her coat pockets, tilted her head as she observed the scene.
"Look at that…" she muttered. "A full lineup of warplanes from the war."
Lyney exhaled softly.
"The firepower back then was… terrifying. But there's no doubt—Teyvat had the most strength in the skies."
Lynette smirked. "That's right."
Their steps slowed as they approached the aircraft behind Primordial Squadron's lineup.
Then—Lynette's eyes caught something.
She chuckled. "Well, would you look at that? Our old planes."
Freminet followed her gaze and nodded.
"Yep. There's my F/A-18."
Lynette arched an eyebrow, stopping mid-step.
"You mean… my F/A-18?"
Freminet blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
Lynette pointed at the vertical stabilizer's trailing edge.
"You see that number right there?"
Freminet squinted, leaning forward slightly.
"…No?"
Lynette sighed, shaking her head. "That's the squadron number. 01. That's my jet."
Lyney, standing beside them, chuckled.
"Come now, you two. Just take it easy."
Lynette rolled her eyes, smirking.
"Says the one who flew an F-35."
Lyney raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean, sister?"
Lynette chuckled. "It means your plane was the most recognizable jet in Nocturne Squadron."
They laughed, their voices lighthearted against the backdrop of the airfield.
As they continued down the taxiway, their gazes lingered on the lineup of aircraft—each jet carrying memories of a war that had changed history.
For now, they simply admired the view.
With each passing minute, more people arrived.
The airfield became a sea of movement—pilots, engineers, Air Force officials, and civilians flowed through the gates, all preparing for the historic air show.
The opening ceremony was just an hour away.
Perfection Before the Reveal
Inside the hangar, Grace and her team put the final touches on Furina's Rafale.
The one-off paint scheme—Élégante et Efficace—gleamed under the overhead lights, polished to perfection.
Not a single streak of dust.
Not a single trace of debris.
Furina's Rafale was perfect.
Himeko, standing with her hands on her hips, surveyed the aircraft, nodding in approval.
"Nicely done, team. You finished just in time."
Grace, still wiping sweat from her forehead, exhaled.
"So… what's the plan?" she asked. "How exactly are we revealing Furina's Rafale to her? In detail this time."
The team turned to Himeko.
But—
A loud knock suddenly echoed through the hangar.
Everyone froze.
Grace snapped toward the door.
"Huh!? Who's that!?"
Lumine's fist clenched instinctively.
"Oh no."
Aether held his breath, his body tensing. The thought crossed everyone's mind—
Had their cover been blown?
But Himeko, standing calmly, raised a hand and waved it off.
"Relax, everyone." She smirked slightly. "It's our guests."
Grace raised an eyebrow. "Guests!?"
Himeko turned to glance through the peephole, then nodded.
"Yeah. The ones who are going to help us execute our plan."
With that, she stepped back and unlocked the door.
The moment the door swung open—nine figures entered.
The Arrival of Legends
They walked inside one by one, their footsteps echoing softly against the hangar floor.
Then—muttering.
"Whoa."
"Holy smokes, is this it?"
"Incredible…"
As the last person entered, Himeko quickly shut the door behind them, locking it.
Then, she turned back to the group and clapped her hands together.
"Everyone! This is the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group—the pilots of Waltz and Primordial Squadrons."
A wave of realization swept through Grace's team.
These weren't just any pilots.
These were some of the greatest aces from the war.
The original Primordial Squadron team:
Jean Gunnhildr
Amber
Ei
Ningguang
Mavuika
And the Waltz Squadron legends, including former Nocturne Squadron pilots:
Clorinde
Wriothesley
Eula Lawrence
Collei
Lyney
Lynette
Each of them was a veteran of the war.
Each of them had flown into battles most would never return from.
And now, they were here—standing before Furina's Rafale M.
For many of them, it was the first time seeing it in over a decade.
They walked forward slowly, their eyes roaming over the jet, taking in every detail.
The silence stretched.
Then—
Collei broke it first.
"Holy shit…" she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Is this the real deal?"
Himeko nodded firmly.
"Yep. We have the original Certificate of Proof, along with its registration. This is 1013-FF."
Amber, standing a little further back, wiped her eyes.
She fought back the sting of tears.
"Fifteen years…" she whispered. "Fifteen years since I last saw this plane in this condition. Still looks as good as ever."
Grace, standing beside her, nodded.
"And it hasn't even been repainted." She gestured toward the fuselage. "She was well-preserved."
Clorinde stepped forward, placing a gloved hand on the aircraft's cold metal skin.
She smiled.
"Furina's going to flip when she sees her plane again."
Wriothesley chuckled.
"No kidding. She's unique."
Jean, arms crossed, nodded in agreement.
Her voice was calm, but full of meaning.
"I told Furina this a long time ago. A part of her is with this plane."
She exhaled.
"And this plane carries a part of her."
She turned, looking toward the others.
"It's like an extension of her arms and legs. She knows how it handles. Even with her eyes closed, she could fly it."
The Golden Crown—A Name That Made Enemies Tremble
At the rear of the aircraft, Ei and Ningguang approached the vertical stabilizer.
Their eyes locked onto the symbol that had once struck fear into Snezhnaya's Air Force.
The Golden Crown, resting over flowing water.
Beneath it, painted in bold, white lettering, was the designation:
"01"—the mark of the Lead Flight Plane of Waltz Squadron.
Ningguang, arms crossed, spoke softly.
"The Golden Crown…" she murmured. "A name that ran through Snezhnaya's ranks like a whisper of death."
She turned toward Ei.
"You see this tail in the sky… and you run."
Ei chuckled darkly. "No kidding. The moment you saw this plane, you knew it was already too late."
Mavuika, who had been silent until now, exhaled sharply.
"I still remember the Snezhnayan comms chatter we intercepted back then…" She smirked, shaking her head. "Their AWACS screaming on open frequency—'It's the Golden Crown! Disengage, disengage!' Poor bastards never stood a chance."
Ningguang scoffed. "Smart ones turned tail. The others?" She shook her head. "They learned the hard way."
Ei smirked. "As they should."
The Plan—A Single Shot at History
Himeko clapped her hands together again, calling everyone to attention.
The group gathered at the front of the Rafale, standing just under the nose of the aircraft.
Himeko began.
"Alright, everyone, listen up."
She looked across the crowd, her gaze firm.
"Firstly, I want to thank the TSSG for being here today. You were essential in making this happen, and now, you're going to be a part of executing this plan."
"Here's how it's going to go down."
"The Opening Ceremony begins at 8:00 AM, with both the Presidents of Teyvat and Snezhnaya addressing the crowd."
"After their speech, Furina will take the stage for her address before the air show officially begins."
"During the Presidents' speech, we will tow the Rafale out of this hangar and position it directly in front of the main hangar doors."
"Furina will finish her speech, completely unaware of what's behind her."
"The moment she finishes—that's when Gepard will open the hangar doors."
"Jean, at that exact moment, you will step onto the stage and present Furina with the Certificate of Authenticity—proving that this is, without a doubt, her aircraft."
"This will be televised live across Teyvat and Snezhnaya. We have one shot. No room for fuck-ups."
"Understood?"
A chorus of nods followed.
Himeko exhaled.
"Alright. Everyone in position. Grace's team—stay here. Wait for Jean's text once the ceremony begins."
Lumine raised a hand. "Just confirming—nobody leaves this hangar during the ceremony, right? And there are no windows?"
Himeko nodded. "Correct. No windows, no exits. We stay put."
Lumine nodded back. "Alright. No further questions."
Himeko took one last breath.
"Let's get to work."
And with that—
The TSSG pilots headed out.
The stage was set.
7:45 AM—Marcotte Air Force Base
The airfield was alive.
Thousands of people had gathered at Marcotte Air Force Base, forming a sea of military officials, government representatives, journalists, and civilians all preparing for the historic event.
Even some celebrities were present, their cameras and social media teams capturing the once-in-a-lifetime occasion.
But among the most significant figures present today—
The President of Teyvat, Sangonomiya Kokomi.
And on her second term in office, the President of Snezhnaya—The Tsaritsa.
They were both here.
A testament to how the world had changed since the war.
Furina's Arrival
A sleek, sky-blue 1974 Monica 650 slowly made its way through the packed parking area.
The classic sedan's polished body reflected the early morning light as it weaved through the endless rows of parked cars, military vehicles, and luxury sedans.
Inside the car—
Furina De Fontaine.
At the wheel, she sighed softly, leaning forward slightly as her sharp blue eyes scanned the area for a parking spot.
"Where the hell are we supposed to park?" she muttered, frustration creeping into her voice.
From the passenger seat, Arlecchino Snezhevna, her longtime rival-turned-ally, casually glanced out her window.
"I don't know, but it looks like most of the crowd is already heading into the main hangar," she observed, watching the steady flow of people disappearing through the large entrance.
Furina clicked her tongue, glancing around again—
Then spotted it.
A reserved area—specifically for military officials.
And by some miracle—
One spot left.
She quickly maneuvered toward the entrance, slowing to a stop beside a guard stationed at the lot's checkpoint.
She reached into her coat pocket, pulling out her military ID, then rolled down the window.
The guard, a young man in uniform, crouched slightly to get a better look.
"Yes, ma'am?" he asked politely.
Furina flashed her ID.
"Captain Furina De Fontaine. Fontaine Air Force and Teyvat Strategic Strike Group."
The guard's eyes widened slightly, recognizing the name instantly.
Then, as if realizing who he was speaking to, he immediately straightened up and saluted.
"Yes, ma'am! There's a spot available for you just ahead."
Furina gave a small nod of approval.
"Appreciate it."
She eased the car forward, navigating into the final empty spot, backing in tail-first toward the security fence.
The engine shut off.
Silence, for just a brief moment.
Then—
Both doors opened.
Furina and Arlecchino stepped out into the cool morning air.
Furina immediately turned to grab her officer's coat from the back seat.
She glanced down, double-checking her medals, ensuring they were perfectly positioned.
Then, with practiced ease, she slid one arm through the sleeve, then the other—
And buttoned it closed.
She adjusted the collar slightly, exhaling.
Then turned to Arlecchino.
"You ready?"
Arlecchino smirked.
"As always, Ace."
Furina chuckled softly.
"Come on. Let's go."
Inside the Hangar – A Packed Audience
As they approached the main entrance, the energy inside the massive hangar was electrifying.
It was packed.
Hundreds—no, tens of thousands—of people filled the space. Military officers in full uniform, high-ranking officials, foreign dignitaries, air force veterans, and civilians all gathered under one roof.
The air buzzed with conversation, with cameras flashing, with the constant hum of a historic event about to begin.
As Furina and Arlecchino stepped inside, a woman in formal attire immediately walked toward them.
An event coordinator.
She smiled warmly as she approached.
"Captain De Fontaine! So wonderful to see you!"
Furina returned the polite smile, nodding.
"Glad to be here."
The coordinator gestured forward.
"There's a seat at the front reserved for you—alongside the other high-ranking officials, including the Presidents of Teyvat and Snezhnaya."
She then turned to Arlecchino.
"Miss Snezhevna, there's a seat prepared for you as well—with the Fontaine Air Force delegation, right near the front."
Arlecchino nodded in understanding.
"Alright."
She then turned to Furina, offering a small grin.
"I'll see you around, then."
Furina nodded back.
"Will do."
The two exchanged a firm fist bump before parting ways.
As Furina walked toward the front rows, her presence did not go unnoticed.
She moved gracefully, her posture straight, her military coat flowing slightly as she strode past the long rows of seats.
And as she passed—
The whispers started.
"That's her… the Ace of Teyvat."
"The pilot with the Golden Crown!"
"Over 400 confirmed kills. The deadliest ace the world has ever seen."
"The woman who ended the war."
She smirked slightly, shaking her head.
"The life of the most famous ace, huh?" she muttered under her breath.
It wasn't ego.
It was reality.
She had lived through a war that changed history.
And now, history was remembering her.
Meeting the Presidents
As she arrived at the front row, she immediately recognized two figures seated nearby.
Two of the most powerful people in the world.
Sangonomiya Kokomi, the President of Teyvat.
And—
The Tsaritsa, President of Snezhnaya.
The two were engaged in quiet conversation, but the moment Kokomi noticed Furina's arrival, she turned toward her with a bright smile.
"Oh, look who it is!" Kokomi's voice carried a warm, playful tone. "The hero herself. The woman who ended the war."
Both Presidents turned toward her.
Furina, without hesitation, extended a hand to Kokomi.
"Madam President. An honor to meet you."
Kokomi chuckled softly, shaking her hand.
"The honor is mine, Captain." She nodded. "Neuvillette and I had a long conversation about your accomplishments. We even watched the documentary about you—the footage was incredible."
Furina's eyes widened slightly.
"Oh! I—uh—thank you! That's… quite unexpected."
Then, the Tsaritsa herself stepped forward, extending her own hand.
"Nice to see you again, Furina."
Furina, maintaining her composure, took the Tsaritsa's hand.
"Nice to meet you too, ma'am."
The exchange was brief, but significant.
Fifteen years ago—
This meeting would have been impossible.
Now—
It was a symbol of peace.
And Furina?
She was at the center of it all.
The buzz of the crowd had reached a fever pitch.
The hangar was packed.
Thousands of people—military officials, high-ranking government representatives, civilians, air force veterans, and even celebrities—all gathered for the historic event.
The opening ceremony of the Marcotte Air Show.
The commemoration of the 15th Anniversary of the End of the Snezhnayan-Teyvat War.
At the front row, among the most powerful figures in the world, sat Teyvat's President, Sangonomiya Kokomi, and Snezhnaya's President, the Tsaritsa.
Seated beside them—
Furina De Fontaine.
She sat calmly, hands folded neatly in her lap.
Yet—
Something felt off.
She wasn't sure why, but a strange tension was creeping into her chest.
It was subtle at first—like a faint hum beneath her skin.
Something was coming.
She just didn't know what.
The Ceremony Begins
Right on cue, a second event coordinator approached the front row.
"The Opening Ceremony is about to begin."
The three leaders nodded before rising from their seats.
As they took their places, the event's host stepped up to the podium at center stage.
A microphone clicked on.
The crowd hushed.
Then, the host's voice echoed through the massive hangar.
"Hello, everyone, and thank you all for coming today."
"To those of you present here, and to those watching from home across the world—I thank you for taking the time to witness this moment in history."
"Today's ceremony is not just the official opening of the Fontaine Marcotte Air Show. It is also a commemoration—of an event that shaped our world forever.
"The end of the Snezhnayan-Teyvat War. Fifteen years ago today."
A heavy pause.
A moment of silence settled over the room.
Then, the host continued.
"But today, we do not simply celebrate the end of a war.
"We also remember.
"We remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice for their nations.
"We remember the bravery, the courage, and the selflessness of the men and women who fought in the skies, on the ground, and at sea.
"We remember the fallen."
The audience was silent.
Then—
"Please join me in welcoming the President of Teyvat, Sangonomiya Kokomi!"
The entire hangar erupted into applause.
Kokomi stood gracefully, offering a warm nod of acknowledgment before stepping onto the stage.
She took her place at the podium, standing tall, composed.
Then, she spoke.
"Thank you. Thank you, everyone."
Her voice, calm yet powerful, carried through the hangar.
"Today, we gather together as a nation, united by the passage of time and the shared experience of a moment that forever changed our lives and our history."
"It was fifteen years ago, on this very day, that the last echoes of conflict faded, and the world witnessed the end of a war that tested our resolve, our courage, and our very identity."
"We remember that day—the day of peace—and we honor the journey that led us here."
She took a breath, then continued.
"The years of war were marked by sacrifice, by loss, and by the untold suffering of countless individuals.
"It was a time when families were torn apart, communities were shattered, and the future seemed uncertain.
"But through the darkest of days, we found the strength to persevere. We found strength in each other, in our collective hope, and in our unwavering belief that peace could one day prevail."
Her gaze swept across the crowd, but for a moment—just a brief flicker—her thoughts drifted back.
A name. A face. A memory burned into her soul.
She had been young then, barely stepping into the world of leadership. But she remembered the long nights spent in war rooms, the impossible choices laid before her, the quiet moments where she had questioned if they would ever see the dawn of peace.
And the losses. The ones she had known personally. The ones she had never met, yet still carried with her.
She inhaled slowly, anchoring herself back in the present.
"It is with deep reverence that we remember the men and women who served—those who gave their lives on foreign soil, those who returned with scars both seen and unseen, and those who stood steadfast, never wavering in their commitment to their countries.
"Their bravery, their sacrifices, and their resilience will forever be etched into the fabric of our national story."
Her voice grew stronger.
"As we reflect on the past, we must also look forward.
"We must honor the lessons learned from war—the importance of diplomacy, the power of unity, and the necessity of understanding that we are all bound by the same hopes and dreams for a better world.
"Let us never forget the pain that conflict brings and the responsibility we bear to seek peace at every opportunity."
She straightened.
"Today, we stand not only as a nation that emerged from war, but as a nation committed to building a future where peace, prosperity, and understanding prevail.
"The scars of war may never fully fade, but they are reminders of our resilience, our determination, and the promise we made to future generations: that we will never allow the horrors of war to define us."
She exhaled.
"As we mark this anniversary, let us honor those we lost, express our deepest gratitude to those who gave so much, and remind ourselves—
"Peace is not simply the absence of war.
"It is the presence of justice, opportunity, and compassion.
"Our work is far from over. But together, we will ensure that the voices of hope rise above the sounds of conflict."
The crowd burst into applause.
Meanwhile—At the Hangar
A quiet ping echoed inside a dimly lit room.
Jean checked her phone.
The signal had been sent.
Inside the hidden hangar, Grace and her team snapped into action.
Lumine was already in the cockpit of Furina's Rafale, ready to assist with positioning.
Ayato was at the controls of the tug, preparing to tow the aircraft into place.
Then—
Grace's phone pinged.
The final confirmation.
Grace immediately raised her voice.
"Alright, everyone! Let's move!"
Aether and Gepard rushed to the hangar doors, sliding them open.
Ayato slowly eased the tug forward.
The Rafale rolled into motion.
It was happening.
As Ayato maneuvered, Grace positioned herself to guide him.
"Ayato, make your turn and line the Rafale up with me!"
"Wilco."
Inside the hangar, as the President continued her speech—
Furina suddenly tensed.
A strange sensation.
Something felt off.
Her mind whispered:
"What the hell? Why am I tensing up all of a sudden?"
Her eyes subtly scanned the room.
Nothing.
No threats.
No signs of danger.
She exhaled, shaking her head.
"Eh. Whatever."
Final Positioning
Outside—
Ayato completed his turn, stopping at a precise 164-degree angle—the Rafale's nose pointed just slightly off-center from the main hangar doors.
Even in the dim lighting, it looked formidable. A sleek predator, waiting. The deep blue livery shimmered under the harsh industrial lights, like the surface of a restless ocean before a storm. The golden emblem on the tail caught the glow, standing proud—a silent testament to everything it had once fought for.
Grace moved quickly, disconnecting the tow bar.
Lumine secured the cockpit, stowed the in-built ladder, and sealed the canopy shut.
Then, she hopped down—
Gave a thumbs-up.
She was ready.
Grace nodded, sending a final ping to Jean.
Inside the main hangar—
Jean's phone vibrated.
She checked the message—
Then rose from her seat.
Her expression betrayed nothing. But beneath her composed exterior, anticipation coiled like a tightened spring.
Sliding past the crowd, she moved toward the side of the stage, stopping just before the steps.
The Certificate of Authenticity gripped in her hand.
At that exact moment—
Kokomi finished her speech.
The Tsaritsa joined her at the center of the stage.
An assistant approached—handing them scissors.
Then—
They cut the ribbon.
The crowd exploded into applause.
Cameras flashed.
History was in motion.
The next step—
The Reveal.
Furina's Speech & The Grand Reveal
Then, both of them stepped down the stairs.
The host spoke again.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen. With over 400 confirmed aerial kills in the skies, she is known as the pilot with the golden crown. In just one year, she tore through the heavens with her squadron, securing air superiority across Snezhnaya and Teyvat."
A pause. A breath of anticipation.
"Ladies and gentlemen… please welcome—"
"Teyvat's Ace! Captain Furina de Fontaine!"
Applause erupted once again. The entire audience rose from their seats.
Furina stood, exhaling slowly. With measured steps, she ascended the stage and took her place at the podium.
She glanced around.
Faces she recognized. Friends, comrades, some she had fought alongside, others she had never met but knew of her.
She took a deep breath.
"I... I don't know what to say. But thank you, everyone."
She nodded, smiling, and then—her voice steadied.
She began.
The Speech
"Fifteen years ago, the sky was not as it is today."
"Fifteen years ago, it was not a symbol of peace, nor a gateway to adventure and discovery."
"It was a battlefield."
"A place of fire and fury, of desperation and survival. A place where metal clashed against metal, where missiles streaked through the heavens like falling stars, and where lives were decided in the span of seconds."
"Fifteen years ago, our world was divided—not just by borders, but by conflict, by hatred, by a war that claimed far too many and spared far too few."
[She looks across the vast crowd, her voice unwavering.]
"I was there."
"Many of you were there."
"Some of you watched from the ground, hoping that the next aircraft you saw overhead was one of ours, not theirs. Some of you were in the factories, building the very machines we flew into battle, never knowing which ones would return and which would not. Some of you waited at home, watching the news, hoping to see familiar names in the list of those who came back—and dreading the possibility of seeing those same names on a different list entirely."
[Her voice lowers slightly, filled with quiet intensity.]
"And some of us… we were in the sky."
"We were the ones who danced on the edge of life and death. The ones who saw missiles flash past our canopies. The ones who heard the frantic voices over the radio—the final callsigns of those who never got the chance to eject."
"We were the ones who had to keep flying… even when everything inside of us screamed to stop."
"We remember."
"Today, we stand together to honor those who fought, those who fell, and those who carried us through."
"We remember the pilots who never made it back to the ground. The engineers who worked through sleepless nights to keep us flying. The medics who did everything they could to save just one more life. The families who waited, the nations that suffered, and the hearts that still ache from the scars of war."
"We remember those we lost. Their names are written in history, but more importantly—they are written in us."
[A deep breath. She continues.]
"Every aircraft that stands on this airfield today—every fighter jet, every bomber, every tanker and AWACS—each of them tells a story. A story of bravery. Of sacrifice. Of pilots who flew missions that seemed impossible and somehow came back. And of those who never did."
"These machines, these legends of war, are silent now. But for those of us who lived through it, they still speak."
"They remind us of what it cost. Of what we gave. And of what we must never forget."
[Her head lifts. Her tone strengthens.]
"But today is not just about the past."
"Today is not just about remembering what was lost. It is about protecting what was won."
"Peace is not given. Peace is earned. Peace is fought for. And peace—true peace—is not simply the absence of war. It is the presence of understanding, of trust, of a shared commitment to never letting history repeat itself."
"Because let me be clear—this could have been different."
"We could have remained enemies. We could have clung to old grudges, to old wounds, to old hatreds. We could have let our scars turn into walls that separated us forever."
"But we didn't."
"Because we are more than our wars. We are more than the battles we fought. We are more than the pain we endured."
"We are here. Together. Because we chose to be."
"And that choice must be made, again and again, every day."
"The sky is no longer ours to conquer—it is ours to protect."
"I once believed that being a pilot meant being a warrior. That my aircraft was my weapon, my wings, my very identity. That to fight was the only way to survive."
"But I was wrong."
"Being a pilot is not just about fighting. It is about protecting."
"It is about ensuring that the skies remain open, free, and safe for those who will come after us. It is about making sure that no child ever has to look up at the sky in fear again."
[Her voice steadies—this is what she believes in.]
"So to the new generation, to those who will one day take to the skies—not as warriors, but as guardians—listen well:"
"Fly not for destruction, but for peace."
"Fly not for war, but for the memories of those who never landed."
"Fly for the future—for a world where no one has to fight in the skies again."
"Today, we are not enemies. We are one."
"We do not stand here as warriors, as aces, as soldiers."
"We stand as the guardians of peace."
"We stand together."
"We are one."
[A pause. The crowd stands in solemn silence. Furina lets the words settle.]
Then—applause erupts. It begins slowly, but quickly builds into something thunderous. The airfield shakes with the sound of thousands of hands clapping, of voices cheering, of history being made once again.
The Grand Reveal
Jean felt her phone vibrate.
She glanced down.
The message had arrived.
She turned her head slightly, meeting Himeko's gaze from across the stage.
A subtle nod.
No words were needed.
Himeko tapped her phone, sending a single ping to Gepard.
Gepard's phone vibrated.
Without hesitation, he pressed the button.
A deep mechanical groan rumbled through the air.
Steel hinges creaked as the massive hangar doors began to slide open.
The crowd, still cheering from Furina's speech, started to notice the movement behind her.
The sound. The shifting of shadows.
Furina's brow furrowed slightly.
She could hear the noise behind her, but she wasn't sure what it was.
Then—
A sudden burst of sunlight flooded into the once-dark hangar.
The entire stage, once shadowed, now bathed in golden light.
Furina slowly turned around.
And then—
She saw it.
Gasps rippled through the audience.
A silence so thick it felt like the world had stopped.
Her Rafale.
Élégante et Efficace.
Perfect. Untouched by time.
Her knees almost gave out.
Her breath hitched.
Her voice—shaken, barely above a whisper:
"No… H-How?"
Jean stepped forward.
A certificate in hand.
"Captain Furina de Fontaine."
Furina turned, tears in her eyes.
Jean smiled.
"This is proof."
She held out the official Certificate of Authentication.
Furina stared at it.
Her name. Her callsign. Her aircraft.
It was real.
And in that moment—she broke down.
And Jean caught her.
Tightly. Warmly.
And the hangar erupted in applause.
The first clap rang out.
Then another.
Then another.
Then—
The entire hangar erupted into applause.
Breaking Down – The Hug
Furina's grip tightened around the certificate.
Her vision blurred further.
The emotions—too much.
The cheers, the lights, the weight of the moment—
She couldn't hold it in anymore.
She dropped the certificate onto the podium.
Then—
She threw her arms around Jean.
And broke down.
Jean didn't hesitate.
She wrapped her arms around Furina, holding her close.
The tears kept falling.
Furina's voice—muffled, shaking—
"This… this is the best thing that's happened… Ever…"
Jean simply nodded, whispering back—
"I know, Furina. I know."
They held the embrace for a long moment.
Furina's shoulders shook.
She never thought she'd feel this aircraft again.
Never thought she'd touch it.
Yet—
Here it was.
And here she was.
The thunderous applause still echoed in the hangar, but Furina barely heard it.
Her mind was somewhere else.
She slowly backed away from Jean, her fingers trembling slightly as she wiped away the last traces of tears with her handkerchief.
She needed a moment.
A moment to process it all.
With slow, deliberate steps, she descended the stage, her gaze locked onto her Rafale—standing proud, restored, and alive once more.
The closer she got, the more real it felt.
She reached out—her gloved fingers finally making contact with the cold, smooth metal of the fuselage.
She exhaled sharply.
Her touch was gentle, as if afraid that if she pressed too hard, the entire moment would shatter like glass.
Her fingers slowly traced along the paneling, following the aircraft's seams and rivets, moving over the painted insignia that had once struck fear into her enemies.
The golden crown over flowing water on the vertical stabilizer gleamed under the lights, untouched by time.
She could see herself in the reflection of the polished surface.
For a moment, it felt like she was standing there in 15 years ago, right before a mission.
As if she had just walked out of a briefing, ready to take off into battle once more.
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"It's been too long… old friend."
Himeko's Announcement – The Truth of the Restoration
A few feet away, Himeko picked up the microphone.
The crowd quieted as her voice carried through the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen… Hello."
A pause. A breath.
"My name is Himeko. I am a representative of Dassault Aviation, stationed at Elynas Air Force Base."
Furina lifted her head slightly, her sharp eyes narrowing.
Something important was coming. She could feel it.
Himeko's voice was steady, deliberate.
"Let me share with you a brief history of Furina's Rafale."
The crowd listened intently, murmurs of curiosity rippling through the air.
Furina, now fully turned, faced Himeko directly.
She locked onto her, hanging onto every single word.
"After the war, the aircraft was bought by a businessman and displayed at the Teyvat Air and Space Museum for five years."
Furina's jaw tightened.
She knew that.
She hated that.
Her aircraft—the very machine that carried her through the flames of war—had been stripped of purpose, reduced to nothing more than a lifeless exhibit behind velvet ropes.
And then—
"When the museum shut down, the Rafale was sold at an auction."
A murmur spread through the crowd.
This was news to many.
Furina clenched her fists at her sides.
She was never given the choice to keep it.
She was never even asked.
Instead, the aircraft—the one-off prototype, a machine unlike any other—had been deemed excess inventory.
Discarded. Like an obsolete relic.
Himeko continued.
"Its second owner stored it in a private hangar at Elynas Air Force Base. He had every intention of restoring it to an airworthy condition."
Furina's brows furrowed.
Someone tried to bring it back?
This was new information.
She had thought it had been forgotten. That no one had cared.
And then—
Himeko's voice softened.
"But… he sadly passed away before he ever got the chance."
A hush fell over the audience.
Furina's chest tightened.
So that was it.
The aircraft had been sitting in a forgotten hangar for years.
Waiting.
Just like her.
She swallowed hard.
Himeko continued.
"His son, however, refused to let his father's dream die with him."
Furina held her breath.
"He reached out to us. And so, we took on the mission."
The words sank in, slow and deep.
A stranger.
Someone she had never met. Someone she never knew.
Had saved her Rafale.
Had kept it safe.
Had given it back to her.
"We contacted an aircraft restoration company in New Eridu, Inazuma."
"And together, we worked tirelessly to bring Furina's Rafale back to life."
Her fingers curled tighter.
She wanted to meet him.
She wanted to thank him.
Himeko wasn't finished.
"The plane will be donated to the Fontaine Air and Space Museum, near Charybdis Air Force Base."
Furina nodded slightly.
She knew the museum well.
She had visited it multiple times—never realizing her aircraft had been so close.
Himeko's voice grew firmer.
Proud.
"The plane was well preserved for ten years after leaving the Teyvat Air and Space Museum."
"Its paint was intact. And most of the damage? Merely visual."
"Structurally, the frame was perfect."
Furina's breath caught.
Perfect?
Even after all it had endured?
Even after all the punishment it took in battle?
After dodging missiles, after surviving dogfights, after being pushed past its limits time and time again?
It had endured.
It had survived.
Like her.
Himeko continued.
"It took us ten months to restore it to factory condition."
"She is, once again, exactly as she was the day she left Elynas Air Force Base."
A Moment of Recognition
Then—
Himeko turned toward Grace and her team, smiling.
"I would like to personally thank Grace Howard and the entire restoration team for their tireless effort in making this possible."
The crowd erupted into applause.
Grace, standing beside Aether, Lumine, and the others, grinned.
Serval nudged her.
"You hearing this?"
Grace chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Damn right I am."
Furina, standing by the aircraft, exhaled slowly.
She looked at every single person who had worked on the restoration.
She saw the pride in their eyes.
She saw the effort, the sleepless nights, the dedication.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
Then—
She turned.
And started walking toward the stage.
She walked with purpose.
The crowd instinctively parted for her.
Every step was deliberate.
She climbed the stairs, reaching Himeko.
The older woman barely had time to react before—
Furina hugged her.
The crowd fell silent.
Himeko froze for a moment, caught off guard.
Then, slowly—she returned the embrace.
Furina's voice, soft. Raw.
"Thank you, Miss Himeko…"
Himeko's expression softened.
She let out a small chuckle, squeezing Furina's shoulder.
"No, Furina… Thank you."
She pulled back slightly, meeting Furina's eyes.
"You were the reason we went out of our way to find this plane for this occasion."
Furina smiled.
A genuine, grateful smile.
She finally had it back.
Her Rafale.
Her history.
Her legacy.
Minutes Later…
The airfield pulsed with movement.
The whine of turbines spooling down, the hum of tug engines, and the distant chatter of ground crews created a symphony of controlled chaos.
But then—
Everything seemed to slow.
At the far end of the runway, Furina's replacement Rafale, 1310-FF, was carefully towed away from the Elephant Walk.
A silence settled over the gathered pilots, engineers, and officials.
Everyone was watching.
Waiting.
The anticipation was tangible.
Then—
From the opposite end of the airfield, another tug emerged from the taxiway.
And behind it—
Furina's original Rafale.
1013-FF.
The real one.
The one-off prototype.
The aircraft that had been lost to time.
Now—
It was back.
And it was taking its rightful place.
The Completion of a Legacy
As the aircraft rolled into position, the ground crew moved with surgical precision.
Chocks were placed.
The tow bar was disconnected.
And then—
The tug pulled away.
Leaving only one thing behind.
The Élégante Et Efficace.
The Golden Crown had returned.
For the first time in fifteen years—
The Elephant Walk was finally complete.
A living museum of warbirds—each with a story, each with a history, each carrying the echoes of a war that shaped their time.
But at the very front—leading them all—stood Furina's Rafale.
The symbol of victory.
The weapon that turned the tide of war.
The plane that defined an era.
Furina's Reflection
Everyone stood on the taxiway, admiring the sight before them.
There was a quiet reverence in the air.
For some, these aircraft were simply machines.
For others, they were legends.
But for Furina—
It was personal.
She stood at the front of the crowd, arms crossed, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
She took a slow, deep breath—letting the moment sink in.
Then, softly—
"Finally… it's complete."
Jean, standing beside her, nodded.
"It sure is."
Behind them, the sun dipped lower on the horizon, bathing the airfield in a golden glow. Light shimmered on the polished fuselages, flickering like liquid fire.
Clorinde stepped forward, her voice steady but warm.
"That plane is a part of you, Furina."
Furina didn't respond immediately.
Instead, she uncrossed her arms, taking a step toward the Rafale.
Then, she nodded.
"And that plane has a part of me."
She reached out—her fingertips brushing against the cool metal.
"Like an extension of my body."
Jean chuckled, crossing her arms.
"Yep. And she's all airworthy."
Furina turned toward her, a flicker of disbelief in her expression.
"Seriously? What Himeko said wasn't a fluke?"
Jean shook her head.
"Nope."
Then—
Jean grinned.
"I had to fly it down here from Elynas last night."
Realization Hits Furina
Furina's eyes widened.
A single moment flashed in her mind—
The previous night.
A lone Rafale, roaring through the skies over Charybdis.
Low altitude.
Afterburners alight.
She had looked up.
She had heard the engines.
She had felt something.
And now—
She knew why.
She slowly turned to Jean, her expression a mixture of shock, amusement, and admiration.
"So that Rafale that flew above me yesterday night…"
Jean's grin widened.
"Was me flying it to Marcotte."
Furina exhaled sharply—half in disbelief, half in a quiet laugh.
She tilted her head back slightly, shaking it.
"Jean, you sneaky son of a bitch."
Jean laughed.
"Well, I did what I had to do."
She stepped beside Furina, glancing up at the Rafale.
"She's ready for anything you do."
Collei joined them, her voice calm but firm.
"But considering that this plane is now part of the Registry of Legendary Aircraft… she won't be entering service again."
A pause.
"But as an airshow aircraft? She can."
Furina slowly nodded.
A deep breath.
A small smile.
"That—I can live with."
Himeko's Announcement
Just then—
A voice from behind.
"Miss Furina?"
She turned.
Himeko approached, hands in her pockets, a knowing smirk on her face.
Furina nodded.
"Yes, Miss Himeko?"
Himeko's smirk deepened slightly.
"Just wanted to let you know—1310-FF is being returned to Elynas Air Force Base."
Furina raised an eyebrow.
"Why is that?"
Himeko's smirk widened.
"Because we're repainting it."
Furina blinked.
"…Repainting?"
Himeko nodded.
"1310-FF will be repainted to match your original Rafale's paint scheme."
A beat.
"But to differentiate it from the original, all the gold parts will be painted in metallic gold."
Furina's lips parted slightly.
She blinked.
Then—
She bowed her head, exhaling a quiet chuckle of disbelief.
A soft breath escaped her—half a laugh, half an exhale of emotion.
Then, barely above a whisper—
"I… I don't know what to say, Miss Himeko…"
She lifted her head, smiling softly.
Her voice was genuine.
"Th—thank you."
Himeko returned the smile.
"It's the least we can do, Miss Furina."
The Historic Photograph
The tug pulled away.
The Elephant Walk was set.
A photographer, stationed on a raised crane, adjusted his camera.
The perfect angle.
The perfect lighting.
The perfect moment.
A shutter clicked—
A single frame, capturing history.
A fleet of warbirds, lined up on the runway.
And at the very front—
Furina's Rafale.
The Élégante Et Efficace.
The Golden Crown.
The Plane That Won the War.
Furina's Declaration
She stood back, arms crossed.
She took it all in.
The sight.
The emotion.
The legacy.
She nodded.
Softly—
"I love this."
Then—
She exhaled.
A pause.
A smirk.
Her voice was calm.
But her eyes burned with a familiar fire.
"Tomorrow."
Jean raised an eyebrow.
"What about tomorrow?"
Furina narrowed her eyes.
Her smirk widened.
Then—
She declared.
"Tomorrow… I will fly my Rafale."
"For the first time… in fifteen years."
The First Day
Over 600,000 people attended.
A world record.
But for Furina—
This day would be remembered for one thing.
Not the crowd.
Not the ceremony.
But the reunion.
With the plane that took her to the skies.
Her Élégante Et Efficace.