Chapter 2 The winds of change

The hangar was colder than Yuto remembered. Decades-old steel girders lined the ceiling, and rows of simulators stood idle like sleeping dragons, their screens blank, yokes resting at attention. Dust danced in shafts of sunlight that poured through the tall windows. The scent of engine oil, worn leather, and oxidized metal hit him like a memory too vivid to ignore. Yuto stood at the threshold, hesitant. Inside, Sora Takamine was already there, tossing her school bag onto a bench and stretching her arms like she owned the place. She looked up when she saw him, her face lighting up as if she’d been expecting him all along. "I knew you'd come," she said. Yuto stepped inside slowly, his footsteps echoing in the vast space. "I didn’t say I was going to." "But you’re here. That counts." Sora bounded over to one of the simulators, running a hand lovingly over its curved edge. "They’re old, but they still run. Coach Amano said we could use them after school hours as long as we don’t break anything." Yuto raised an eyebrow. "Coach Amano? He still works here?" "Yeah. He was my dad’s rival back in the day. He trains glider pilots now. Doesn’t say much, though. Kind of like you." He wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult. Sora powered on the simulator. The screen flickered, hummed, and then came to life with a low mechanical growl. She gestured to the co-pilot seat. "Want to sit in?" Yuto didn’t move. "Just watching, then? Suit yourself." She climbed in and buckled up. The moment the scenario started, Yuto recognized the course: Blue Ridge Descent. A moderately difficult training course used for assessing balance and precision. A good test for fundamentals. Sora’s hands gripped the yoke with fierce confidence. Her control was bold—maybe too bold. She dove aggressively into turns, barely correcting pitch during descents. Her instincts were sharp, but her technique was wild. "You're going to stall at that angle," Yuto murmured. "What?" "Ease off the pitch. You're pushing against a thermal drift. If you drop the nose now, you'll lose lift." Sora hesitated, then adjusted. The glider corrected just in time. "Whoa," she breathed. "That was close." Yuto smirked despite himself. "You fly like a daredevil." "Better than flying like a robot." She crashed near the end of the course, laughing as the simulator went dark. "Not bad, right?" "Not terrible," Yuto admitted. "But your approach vectors were all over the place. You dive too fast. You’re fighting the wind instead of dancing with it." "Then teach me to dance, Professor." Sora leaned back, folding her arms behind her head. Yuto sighed, but part of him was intrigued. Her enthusiasm was magnetic, infectious. For years, he had buried his passion for flight, suffocating it beneath layers of fear and guilt. But here was someone who dared the sky with fire in her eyes. She climbed out and looked at him seriously. "Look, I know you’re dealing with stuff. But I’m not asking you to fly. Just help me learn." He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked over to another simulator and ran his fingers along the cold plastic. His pulse quickened. Memories flooded back—of early mornings with his dad, long hours training, the rush of pulling off a perfect turn. He slid into the co-pilot seat beside her. "Fine. But only because you’re going to kill yourself without help." "That’s the spirit." The next few days settled into an unusual rhythm. Classes by day, flight drills by night. Sora insisted on calling their sessions "Flight School 2.0," scribbling her progress in a notebook she decorated with little glider doodles. Yuto learned that she had transferred from Osaka after a disciplinary record threatened her future. Apparently, she had been caught sneaking into restricted airfields to test old gliders. Instead of expulsion, her parents had sent her to Shiratori in the hopes a quieter environment would calm her. It hadn’t. "Why Skyfire?" Yuto asked one afternoon. "Because it’s the one place where guts matter more than background," she said. "You can come from nothing, but if you fly like lightning, you get to write your name in the sky." He nodded slowly. He understood. Skyfire wasn’t just a competition—it was a proving ground. She watched him carefully. "What about you? You were some kind of prodigy, right?" He flinched. "Not anymore." "Still doesn’t answer why you stopped." Yuto stood, brushing imaginary dust from his pants. "I told you. It’s personal." She didn’t push. But that night, she left a photo on his desk in the hangar—a picture of a glider soaring into a sunrise. On the back, she’d written: You can’t fly if you don’t leave the ground. The following week, Coach Amano finally showed up. He was an imposing figure—tall, broad-shouldered, with a buzzcut and a permanent scowl etched into his face. His arms were crossed as he watched Sora’s latest simulation run. When she climbed out, sweaty and grinning, he gave a grunt. "You fly like you’ve got something to prove." "Maybe I do," she replied. He turned to Yuto. "And you. You’re Hiroshi’s boy." Yuto stiffened. "Yes, sir." Amano’s eyes narrowed. "He was the best damn pilot I ever lost to. Died doing something stupid. Risky. Heroic. Sound familiar?" Yuto didn’t respond. "You’ve got his eyes. And maybe his fear too. But you also have his brain. Use it." From that day on, Amano began attending their sessions. He rarely spoke, but when he did, his words were sharp and heavy. He corrected Sora’s form, challenged Yuto’s observations, and slowly pushed them beyond their comfort zones. One day, Amano surprised them with news. "There’s a local qualifier in three weeks. Top three get fast-tracked to Skyfire preliminaries." Sora nearly jumped out of her seat. "We’re in, right? Right?" Amano looked at Yuto. "You flying too?" Yuto hesitated. His hands clenched into fists. Sora answered for him. "Not yet. But he will." Yuto glared at her. "Don’t speak for me." "Then tell me I’m wrong." He couldn’t. Later that night, after she had gone home, Yuto stayed behind. He sat alone in the dark simulator bay, eyes fixed on the machine before him. He climbed into the cockpit, heart pounding. The screen flickered to life. Blue Ridge Descent. He took a breath and gripped the yoke. The wind greeted him like an old friend. The sky was waiting. He dove in. [End of Chapter 2]