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The quiet.
What Yellow Thirteen remembered most about San Salvacion nights was the quiet.
Even the sounds of people walking in the streets were absent on the busiest of friday nights.
But the skyline was always beautiful.
It was one of those nights; Thirteen alone on a rooftop in the city, staring out, simply contemplating. Nowhere else to be, nothing else to do, he found some peace here, taking in the city.
As much peace as he could get on the ground.
These days, that sort of peace is harder to get. The Continental war.
Thirteen never considered or cared for the politics of the war; The people Erusea conquered, the places they invaded, why they fought. It wasn’t his place to, in his eyes. All he saw was the skies and those who flew them. All he did was fight in search of an equal.
And an equal was coming, indeed.
Mobius One. That was what the papers named the enemy ace. Mobius. One. A unique challenger, one who had seen so much war and still remained such a mystery even to friendly forces. One who rivaled the notoriety of the Yellow Squadron, and yet flew a single fighter.
One who would make an excellent opponent.
Perhaps he’d even find himself bested by the living unknown of an ace.
A fate he didn’t find himself minding all that much.
The morality of the war, of his actions, got harder to ignore every day. At least his wingmates seemed in good spirits.
His squadron would be drinking in a nearby bar, enjoying themselves. It was a friday, after all. Nobody could begrudge them some time to relax, regardless of the war going on. They wouldn’t know where he is, nor would they care. All, except his wingmate of course.
As if on cue, as his thoughts turned to her, he heard her telltale footsteps behind them. Lighter than the others, as if more careful, graceful.
Yellow Four.
“You should stop walking out on the squadron like that, Thirteen.”
Although her words were concerned, her voice was much more lighthearted.
“They worry about you.”
He turned his head towards her as she stepped forward and leaned against the roof’s railing as he did, searching across the horizon, as though trying to find what he was so interested in. Not understanding the beauty he saw in it.
He caught himself staring at her for a few seconds; just observing the small ways she differed from him, in mannerisms, posture, even the way her eyes moved.
Before averting his eyes back to the city, realizing that he should be answering.
“The concern is appreciated. Unnecessary, though.”
Four just scoffed, and the pair fell into a comfortable silence for a while. To his own surprise, it was Thirteen who spoke up first.
“The… enemy ace, in the papers. Mobius.”
A small pause.
“What do you think they’re like?”
The question was something deep in the back of his mind. Thoughts of his rival, though the two had yet to truly meet in combat, had taken up much more of his mind than he had, or would like to admit. Four was silent for a moment, considering.
“Does it matter that much? You’ll shoot them down.”
He shook his head.
“That’s not the point.”
She glanced over at him, curiosity bright in her eyes.
“Then what is?”
The question took him off guard. Why exactly was he so… Preoccupied with the idea? It was no secret that he longed for an equal. Someone to make the skies truly worth flying in. Someone who could make it seem much lonelier, who thirteen could take on a dance across the deep blue above.
“I want to know them. Know more about them.”
She nodded, in a sort of understanding.
“I suppose it’d be better if the supposed ‘ace to rival all aces’ wasn’t such a mystery of a person.”
Thirteen sighed.
“I wish I could meet them. Look them in the eyes, see what lies behind. To know what keeps someone like that going… It’s something I long for.”
Four laughed, a reaction completely unexpected.
“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had a crush.”
The joke was lost on him.
Thirteen was, after all, anything but a romantic.
“Maybe.”