The Fragrance of Orange Grass

In the eternal night, he flies through the cosmic nebulae and dust like a bird weaving between the trees. Facing the Alliance's relentless barrage of anti-aircraft fire, he shows no fear. He folds his wings and strikes like a sharp sword, moving with a bird's grace, a streak of lightning gliding above the dust.

But every fighter must eventually land, and every bird must return to its nest. In the land of his hometown lie ties he has not even noticed…

"Hey, when the orange grass is blooming across the fields, let's get married."