Hello dear reader.
Thank you sincerely for reading my story, The Strong in Heart.
Before you continue, please be informed that I am unable to provide a regular update schedule due to the structure of my life and therefor updates may come infrequent.
Be also informed that English is not my first language and, while I am still confident I can deliver decent English writing, I may make the occasional mistake. I welcome advice and corrections as I hope to improve my writing as I go. Additionally, the fact that my browser insists on autocorrecting everything to my mother tongue is quite the annoyance.
This story was influenced by two notable works of KC fiction: "Things no longer allowed involving shipgirls" and "Belated Battleships". I have actively been writing for the former and the advice of the people on their Discord server has been crucial in getting this project started in the first place. I would like to express my gratitude towards all the good-hearted folks that have helped my nascent writing improve!
If you want to discuss this story or ask me a question regarding it, I would like to direct you towards the official Spacebattles thread (link is in my bio). I am very active on that site, more so than here, and will gladly chat with you, the readers, about the story and its characters.
Thank you again for dropping by, and please, be my guest and start reading down below.
In light of the recent passing of Articles 11 and 13 in the EU (which is where I reside), I see it as necessary to add a disclaimer to this story:
I do not own Kantai Collection, nor am I affiliated with the creatorsof Kantai Collection. I do not make any money from this story.
Chapter Zero: The Story of a Lifetime
"This way, ma'am." Jane Thompson was struggling to keep up as the lab-coated man led her through the veritable maze of hallways, stairwells and reception areas that constituted the Yokosuka Veteran's Hospital. Rooms flew by in haste, sealed behind blank wooden doors. All doors were the same, boring, repetitive, the only difference was the number on the small stainless steel sign on each door.
Jane mused that it was befitting of the industry. An overtaxed mental care system for which each patient was nothing but another case, another folder, another burden. Marcus would have loved to write a harsh-worded article about that. His mother was a shipgirl, after all, she had fought in the war, and she had suffered in it.
Up another flight of stairs they went in the building. Their steps echoed through the otherwise abandoned halls. A key entered a keylock and the loud clack of a heavy fireproof lock sounded through the hallway like a gunshot, amplified by the tall stairwell.
On the other side of the heavy door, the hallways were different. The floor was no longer linoleum but carpet, and the walls too were carpet, only the ceiling wasn't. Warm light oozed from the lamps on the walls, no longer the cold neon tubes Jane had noticed downstairs. Jane stopped for a moment and reached out to touch the wall. It was smooth, and it gave way to the touch. She pressed harder and found herself wondering how far the cushioning would go. Who it was made for was obvious at least.
"Here she is, ma'am." The man says, standing in front of a white door at the far end of the hallway. She heads towards it, hesitant now. "Mind you, the woman is very old. If she says she wants to have a break, you take a break."
Jane nods. "Yes, of course."
Without further comment, the man knocks on the door and slowly opens it.
The room Jane now enters is small. A window looks out over the surrounding town, but it's small and there is the unmistakable cris-cross pattern of safety glass. It also doesn't open. On one side of the room, far furthest from the window, where the light is scarce, is a desk with old paper blueprints strewn about. An archaic TV screen also resides there, bolted onto the wall. Drawers line another side of the room, all with locks on them. Underneath the window is an armchair, and in the armchair sits an elderly woman.
Her frame is small, tiny in fact, Jane's daughter must be taller by now than she is. Her face is wrinkled, her eyes are distant, her ponytail is bright gray. As Jane takes another step into the room, she looks up and tries to smile.
"Ah, welcome." She says, and beckons Jane to sit. "You are the reporter, yes?"
"Yes, uh, I am." Jane says and moves to sit on the chair at the desk.
"The reporter she is, yes." Says the old woman, and her eyes turn distant again for a second before they shoot up to the side, focusing an nothing. "You hear that, Owari? We will be in the newspaper, yes. Hmm."
Jane does not talk. The lady doesn't either, she seems to be busy fidgeting with her hands. Hands that, Jane notices, are barely more than a skeleton covered with loose sheets of skin.
"Where are my manners, young one?!" the lady suddenly says, and stands up to walk over to a sideboard, where a thermos is located. Her hands unscrew the lid slowly, and warm, well-smelling tea is poured into a cup. Her skeletal fingers grasp the cup and, shaking, she brings it over and offers it to Jane on two hands, like a blossoming flower.
Jane accepts and thanks the old woman, her hands carefully grasp the porcelain cup and she blows over it to cool it. The smell of green tea wavers through the room.
"Owari and I, we grew these leaves." The lady says as she sits down in her chair with visible effort. "Back in the day when our thoughts and our bodies were still free, yes…" she sighs and shoots a furious glance at the lab coat man.
Jane is unsure how to respond, and so she hesitantly takes a small sip of the cup. The tea tastes delicious indeed, a strong, herbal taste that reminds Jane of the smell of a large stretch of woodland.
"Nature's essence, isn't it?" the woman says, and tries to laugh. "Owari always says that I am obsessed with nature…" A second of silence, then suddenly the old woman looks up again and shouts "Yes you do!"
Jane clears her throat. "Ma'am, I am here because I am writing a book documenting the history of the kanmusu program. I…" Jane opens her purse and produces a small booklet and a pen. "I wanted to ask you a few questions, as one of the few remaining kanmusu, I was hoping you could help me fill in some gaps in my timeline? Many things are still classified, so it's hard to get an accurate picture of what happened."
The woman looks up at these words. "I won't give you classified information!" she declares. "However, I'll help you as best as I can, yes. Yes."
Jane takes another sip of the tea. It's cooler now, and drinking it is easier and the taste is even richer. Then, she puts the cup down on the des besides her and readies her pen. "So, maybe we could start with how you were summoned?"
The lady's eyes grow distant again, she sighs. "I am the only kanmusu still around, you know?" she suddenly says. "All the others, scrapped. They chose to live like normal humans. Heh, what an illusion. No one ever forgets their faces. I didn't. I still have my guns, my armor, my speed… The eternal guardian of Japan I was, and I still am, and I will be until all my powers are consumed and all my will is broken! Hah!" she half-shouts, half-laughs at the man in the labcoat, a spark of defiance in her eyes. She stands quicker than Jane, and with a whirl of her kimono, a katana manifests in her hand, and five steel turrets take aim at Jane and the guard.
The color fades from the humans' faces at the sight. The lady may be old, mad and close to death, but her will is unbroken, and her defiance against the inevitable is scary and admirable at the same time.
Down the hallway, the door falls closed and the locks snap shut. The lady hears this and sheathes her katana. Her rigging disappears, and she sits back down in the armchair. The defiance is gone from her eyes, and any onlooker might be under the impression that the outburst never happened. Jane however will never see the woman with the same eyes again.
"Yes, yes. My summoning." She says with a tired, thoughtful voice. "So long ago." She hesitates a while, ten seconds at least, with closed eyes and a tensed body. When she opens them, the spark of defiance is back in her eyes.
"Fine." She says and a cheeky smile passes over her face for the blink of an eye. "I don't have long to live anymore, so I better start talking. I hope you have time at your hands, reporter, because I, Kii, will tell you the story of a lifetime."