The wind roared across the Shiratori High airstrip, carrying the scent of metal, grass, and the sharp promise of altitude. Above the open hangars, flocks of birds traced spirals in the sky like brushstrokes. Somewhere high above them, a glider’s silhouette flashed against the sun—brief, graceful, weightless.
Yuto Hayashi stood near the launch rails, eyes narrowed against the sunlight, helmet under one arm. His stomach was a storm of nerves. Today wasn’t just another training run.
It was the team’s first tandem simulation flight—and Coach Amano had paired him with Riku Akamine.
Yuto had survived solo flights before. He had trained maneuvers with Sora, even mastered the Spiral Phoenix move on paper. But this was different.
Now, someone else was trusting their wings to him.
---
“Let’s get one thing clear.”Riku’s voice was as cold as the wind that whipped through the hangars. He strode toward Yuto, dressed in full flight gear, his sharp eyes framed by black bangs and a scowl.
“I don’t care if you’re the ‘prodigy who quit.’ If you freeze up like last time, I’m bailing mid-air.”
Yuto didn’t flinch. “That’s fine. I don’t need you to hold back.”
Their words cut like ice, but Coach Amano, watching from the control tower, didn’t interfere. He simply clicked his radio.
> “Alpha Pair, prepare for tandem launch. Sim run starts in 2 minutes. No resets. Treat it like real match conditions.”
Riku climbed into the rear cockpit. Yuto followed into the front seat.
As the canopy closed over them, Yuto could hear his heartbeat more clearly than the wind outside.
---
The rail mechanism whirred. The glider jolted forward.And they were airborne.
---
The silence of the sky was different when shared.
Yuto adjusted the yoke. The pressure of the air beneath the wings, the subtle tension in the control lines—it was all more real now. He could feel Riku’s presence behind him like a ghost, watching his every move.
> “First bogey, 9 o’clock. You see it?” Riku asked.
“Visual acquired,” Yuto said.
“Then act faster.”
A simulated drone swooped toward them, signaling the beginning of the exercise. The training AI mimicked the aggressive patterns of a real Skyfire opponent—sharp dives, unpredictable loops.
Yuto veered right, dragging the glider into a dive.
> “Too steep. You’re bleeding speed.”
“I know,” Yuto snapped.
“Then fix it before we crash.”
The tone in Riku’s voice was like gravel—abrasive, but oddly controlled. Yuto grit his teeth and recovered altitude. They weaved through clouds, performing low-G turns, barrel rolls, and sudden ascents that strained their necks against the harnesses.
But even as Yuto moved with increasing precision, one thing lingered at the edge of his mind:
Fear.
The same fear that had grounded him for two years.
---
FLASHBACK –A younger Yuto screaming as his glider spiraled. His brother’s voice, calm and certain in the rear seat. Then—A wing breaks.Impact.Silence.
---
> “Yuto!”
Riku’s voice snapped him back.
Too late.
The glider was wobbling.
> “Damn it! You stalled!”
Yuto tried to recover, but the warning tone echoed in his helmet. A drone "tagged" their position—simulation failed.
The control tower lights blinked red.
> “Simulation failed. Tandem pair Alpha, return to ground.”
---
Back on the tarmac, Yuto tore off his helmet and slammed it down on the bench.
“I messed up again…”
“Correction,” Riku muttered as he climbed out. “You panicked again.”
Yuto stood. “Then give me a chance to fix it.”
“Fix it in the sky? Or inside your own head?”
That one hit too close.
Sora, who had watched everything from the hangar roof, hopped down and stepped between them.
“Enough, both of you,” she snapped. “You’re not helping.”
“She’s right,” Coach Amano’s voice rang out. He walked over, arms folded. “Riku, flight dismissed. Yuto—stay behind.”
---
Once Riku was gone, Amano sat beside Yuto on the hangar bench.
“You're not the only pilot who’s flown with ghosts,” the coach said. “But ghosts don't crash gliders. Fear does.”
Yuto looked down. “I thought I was ready. But every time I get too high, I see it again. The crash. My brother. Everything.”
Amano nodded solemnly. “You don’t heal by pretending you’re not broken. You heal by flying anyway.”
He stood. “You’re flying with someone else tomorrow.”
---
✦
The next morning.
Sora smiled as she adjusted the seat harness of the two-seater glider.
“You’re in the rear seat today,” she said. “I’m flying first.”
Yuto blinked. “Why?”
She winked. “So you’ll stop carrying the whole sky on your shoulders.”
They launched into a quiet sky, the air smoother than yesterday, the clouds soft and scattered like feathers.
Sora’s flying was different from Riku’s.
Where Riku cut the wind like a blade, Sora danced with it like a partner. Her hands moved like a musician’s, gentle yet precise.
“Your turn,” she said after ten minutes. “Take the stick.”
Yuto hesitated, then took over.
“Close your eyes for five seconds.”
“What?”
“Do it.”
Reluctantly, Yuto closed his eyes.
“Now feel the wind. Don’t fight it. Let it speak.”
The glider shifted. A current tugged left. Yuto adjusted. He could feel it. The breath of the sky.
His hands steadied.
He opened his eyes.
And for the first time in years, flying didn’t feel like an escape.
It felt like a homecoming.
---
That evening, Coach Amano gathered the team.
“Three days until the Inter-Regional Trials,” he said. “Only one team will qualify. It’s time to finalize pairs.”
He looked at the three.
“Riku, you’re flying lead. Yuto, you’re his wingman.”
Riku raised an eyebrow. “Even after his stall?”
Amano crossed his arms. “Especially after it. He’s the only one who didn’t quit mid-air.”
Riku said nothing.
Sora clapped Yuto’s back. “Looks like you’re flying again, Skyboy.”
Yuto smiled faintly.
But in his chest, something lighter stirred.
Not fear.
Not doubt.
Flight.
---
✦
Later that night, Yuto stood under the open hangar doors, staring at the stars.
He clutched a folded photograph of his older brother—smiling in flight gear, one arm around a younger Yuto.
“I’ll fly again,” he whispered. “Not for revenge. Not to run.But because this sky was ours."
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