Kilby Girl

Mele sighed as she stepped out into the foyer, a sea of voices rising to meet her. The space buzzed with conversation - old comrades trading stories, laughter echoing off the high ceilings. Her guitar was slung across her back, the strap warm against her shoulder. She’d hoped to slip out quietly, maybe through a side exit, but the packed hall dashed that plan immediately. There was no way she could cross it unnoticed.

And sure enough, someone was already heading toward her.

A tall man cut through the crowd, his posture straight, his stride confident. His light brown hair was neatly styled beneath a green baseball cap embroidered with a squadron emblem. His dark pilot’s uniform gleamed with medals - far too many for someone his age.

Her breath caught.

She knew that face.

Not from the news, not from interviews or broadcasts - but from a small, makeshift stage two years ago. A night burned into her memory. It had been one of her first performances after the nickname spread, when every show felt like walking through a minefield of superstition and fear. She hadn’t expected much of an audience that night. Maybe a few curious onlookers, a few sympathetic souls.

Then she’d seen him.

A single pilot’s uniform in the small crowd.

The Airborne Warrior.

Her heart had nearly stopped when she realized who he was. She’d played that night with trembling fingers, terrified that if he died the next day, she’d be blamed for it. Every note felt like a prayer, every breath a plea. When the performance ended, she’d gone to her hotel and cried until dawn, afraid she’d wake up to headlines declaring her cursed again.

But the next day came, and he was still alive.

The next performance, she saw more pilots in the audience. Then soldiers. Then entire units. Her curse had become something else - something people began to challenge instead of fear. He had changed that.

And now he was walking toward her again.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice calm, measured. “Are you the Reaper’s Songstress?”

Mele nodded, a small, knowing smile curling her lips.
“And you’re the Airborne Warrior?”

He returned the nod, barely a flicker of emotion crossing his face. “It’s good to see you again. I came to-”

Before he could finish, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. The embrace was brief, impulsive, her head only reaching his collarbone. He froze, muscles locking in surprise.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He blinked. “Uh-”

She pulled back almost immediately, cheeks flushing. “Sorry. I just… I had to thank you.”

He stammered. “Th-thank me? What for?”

She tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “Do you really not remember?”

He shook his head slowly.

She smiled faintly. “Then I suppose that’s a story for another time. But still, thank you. For everything.”

He studied her for a moment, the warmth in her tone melting the formality from his posture. Finally, he nodded. “Then I should thank you too. Your music is… beautiful. It might have saved me.”

Her brows lifted slightly. “Saved you? What do you mean?”

A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips. “That’s also a story for another time.”

She laughed softly, the sound like the first strum of a string. “Then I’ll look forward to hearing it.” She hesitated, then added, “Um… may I ask your name?”

“Falisai,” he said. “Fali for short.”

“Mele,” she replied, smiling as she extended a hand. “Nice to meet you. Again.”

Their hands met. His grip was firm, hers gentle, but neither pulled away immediately.

“Nice to meet you too.”

Mele took a deep breath, unnoticed by Fali as she took a leap.
“Hey, do you want to meet up sometime?”

Fali looked surprised.
“Meet up? Why?”

He wanted to slap himself.
“I mean, sure! When and where?”

Mele tried to stifle her laugh, managing only a grin.
“I’ll let you know. Do you have a phone?”

He nodded, fishing it out as quickly as possible while still trying to look calm and collected. She noticed, of course, but did her best not to show her amusement as he handed her the device. She entered her contact details, then offered her own phone in return. A few taps later, they were both double-checking the numbers before pocketing them again.

Mele smiled.
“Thank you. Uhm… could you help me get to the door?”

Fali glanced around and realised what she meant. There was no way she’d get through the crush of bodies without being stopped every few steps by someone wanting to talk to her. He nodded.
“Sure. Follow me.”

She stuck close to his side as they threaded through the mass. He kept talking to her as they went, using the chatter as a shield to keep others at bay.
“So… what brand is your microwave?”

She blinked.
“What now?”

He gave a sheepish grin.
“Running joke from my old base. When you don’t know what to talk about, you ask what brand their microwave is.”

She laughed - bright and genuine.
“That’s funny. But… why microwaves?”

He shrugged.
“Honestly, I’ve got no idea. Someone came up with it, and it just stuck.”

She grinned as they squeezed between a stubborn group of elderly men.
“Y’know, of all the bases I visited, I never heard anything like that.”

“Yeah, each base had its own inside jokes. We were all our own little communities.”

He seemed to drift into a fond memory, but then they broke free of the crowd and stepped through the glass entrance into the cold night air. The sudden emptiness stunned Mele for a moment, but she recovered quickly and smiled up at Fali. He glanced back, unsure how to end the moment. Thankfully, she didn’t hesitate.

“Thank you.”

His small, reserved smile appeared again - the only one she’d seen him wear apart from neutral.
“You’re welcome.”

They both stood there awkwardly for a second before Mele lifted her phone, showing the blank screen.
“I’ll get a taxi.”

The cogs in Fali’s mind turned faster than they ever had before - which was saying something for a retired fighter pilot.
“Oh! I can give you a lift, if you like.”

Mele paused, considering it for half a second before smiling.
“That’d be amazing. Thank you.”

Fali couldn’t stop his heart from pounding.

His car was parked nearby, in a space reserved just for him. Somehow, no one seemed to notice their departure, and soon they were both buckling in. He wasted no time getting the car going, maxing the heaters to fend off the cold as Mele rested her guitar case between her legs. The steering wheel was frigid beneath his hands - but it was nothing compared to the metal frame of Freyla’s canopy in winter.

No one waved as they left. No one noticed. Everyone was too busy with each other. The media, for once, was nowhere in sight.

The car hummed softly as they cruised through the late-night streets, almost devoid of life. The stereo played in the background, but the quiet music was soon overtaken by Mele’s voice.

“You know, the concert wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

Fali nodded, grunting his agreement.
“Yeah. It was, actually.”

She sighed happily.
“I’m looking forward to next year’s.”

He kept his eyes on the road.
“Will you play again there?”

She chuckled.
“Maybe I will. Honestly, I’ve got no idea. My schedule isn’t really under my control. My manager handles all that. I just go where I’m told.”

“That must suck.”

“Yeah,” she admitted with a sigh. “I don’t like it much. But it pays well, so what can I do? And if I suddenly stop, I’ll never be left alone.”

He raised an eyebrow.
“Because of…?”

She nodded.
“Mhm.”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth.
“I know what that’s like. I-”

“Left here,” she interrupted suddenly.

He made the turn, the indicator clicking softly as they got back on track.
“I know what that’s like,” he finished.

She glanced at him.
“You do? Oh, right. Of course.”

He nodded slowly.
“Yeah. I haven’t been left alone for… what, five years now?”

He sighed.
“It’s hell. You know that as well as I do. At least in the military, they couldn’t reach me. Now I feel like a spy, always having to watch my back to avoid them.”

Mele perked up in agreement.
“I know, right? And you can’t even walk down the street without being ambushed by people wanting selfies or autographs.”

He nodded again, a faint smile tugging at his lips as Mele pointed ahead.
“Just here, thanks.”

“Huh. You don’t live far from the concert hall.”

She shrugged.
“I don’t really live here. It’s just the hotel I’m staying at. I’ll be somewhere else in a few days.”

Sadness crept into his voice as he brought the car to a halt.
“Somewhere else… do you know when you’ll be back?”

She shrugged again.
“Not really. But I’ll text you, okay? Then we can meet up like I promised.”

His heart beat a little faster, nerves swirling through him.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

She smiled as she climbed out, slinging her guitar over her back. Before closing the door, she tilted her head, her expression soft.
“Thanks again. It’s nice talking to someone who sees you as a person.”

He nodded, not quite absorbing her words.
“Yeah. See you soon.”

She closed the door, and he watched her go until she reached the hotel entrance and paused. She turned gracefully, giving a small wave as elegant as the flow of her dress, before disappearing inside.