"I hope you don't have hay fever," the Admiral commented towards Yamato, after she told him that tears were forming in her eyes. "Or maybe it's just some reaction to the pollen… though I haven't seen much around here." Just the cherry and plum blossoms, and now that it was April, some wisteria, as well.

"Maybe. I'll be fine. Thank you, Admiral."

"Mm-hmm."


"1400." Yamato yawned softly, eyes shutting and hand over her mouth as she did. Then those eyes opened. "Ah! I-I'm not asleep!"

The Admiral looked up her for a moment and went back to his work. 1400. Still he was writing reports and looking over various maps of the Pacific. Still he wondered why those islands were called Nansei, though everybody else seemed to refer to them as the Ryūkyū Islands. Still the Abyssal presence there was substantial and unrelenting. It did always provide as something of a training ground for his ships… the whole region was turning into a landscape of attrition. Plenty of resources to tap into, plenty of Abyssals to sink — taking down their transport ships was also a bonus —, but nevertheless a threat to the home islands.

He looked up at the clock and saw that the minute hand was over the 1. Then he looked over at his secretary, and sure enough, what with her crosser arms and legs and closed eyelids, he concluded that she was asleep. When her brows furrowed and cheek twitched in a microsecond he assumed that he was simply seeing things and went back to studying the map. His eyes fell upon the island of Okinawa, where one could always find light Abyssal fleets lurking, heavier ships here or there peppered throughout. Building a forward base there doesn't seem too bad an idea. … A sound made him perk up, and his gaze lifted towards the door. He looked at Yamato once more and noticed that her brow was furrowed. He raised his own eyebrows, but observed her for a while, sighed, and was soon focusing on the Nansei Islands again. Soon enough he went back to writing his reports. I wonder if I have any mail today. I haven't had any for a while.

"That's—"

He shot his head up once more and looked at Yamato. Her teeth were clenched, and her arms down at her sides, fingers curled into fists. A singular drop of sweat trailed down from her forehead, past her temple and across her cheek. He set his pen down and walked hastily towards her. Her feet tapped the ground. He tapped her shoulder.

"N-no..."

"Yamato." He sat next to her and watched closely.

"…"

The minute hand had once been over the 4, and now it moved away. Soon it was halfway between the 4 and the 5, and then closer to the 5.

She gasped awake, and the Admiral felt a shock go through his body that, though light, reached every part of him. Those goosebumps came to his mind. She looked at him, then down at the floor, and let out a soft sigh.

"You were having a bad dream. No, that's a lie. Not a bad dream. The bad dream."

"I'm sorry, Admiral."

"Don't be, there's nothing to be sorry for." He stood back up and was about to write this off and go back to work when something tugged at his hand. He turned back to her, and if it weren't her hand, that would have surprised him to some extent.

"Admiral…"

"Yeah."

She put her other hand on top of his. "I'm sorry if this seems rude or random…"

"You apologize too much, you know that? When I gave you chocolates on White Day, for example." Remembering that day made him blush somewhat, but he lowered his eyebrows and managed to make it disappear partially.

"Admiral."

"Yeah." He looked her in the eyes.

"Promise me that you won't let me die."

He didn't respond instantly, but spent a moment brooding over her request. "I promise you. … I promise I won't let you die."

"…"

He moved his hand away and sat down on the couch once more. "Sometimes I forget that, at heart, all of you are just as human as anyone else is. Even when I know you girls need to rest… when the time comes for operations and sorties and expeditions and what not I feel as if I'm a machine, emotionless, maybe even lacking sentience, but simply pushing out orders. I always feel disappointed when we lose… but I'm just the one giving the orders. You girls are the ones fighting. That work is harder than anything I can ever do. It's fascinating how you can withstand shells and torpedoes and bombs... it seems superhuman, your abilities to handle them, even if they do a lot of damage. Yet, I think I forget that you feel pain. And you feel it often, and it must be some of the worst pain any person could endure, and pain no person should experience. … And so that is why you have that dream every time April 7th comes about."

Yamato had been standing, arms at her sides, watching and listening to each word the Admiral said.

"I make sure you all get your food and good rest, but I don't think I ever say how much I appreciate your work. When you girls shine, you really shine. And I'm really grateful for that. I'm very happy that I had the chance to get to know you all, and have the chance to be your admiral. Sometimes I still don't feel worthy of this post, but I'm nevertheless honored. … and this is my main flaw. Suddenly this is no longer about you. I speak too much about myself. I often think I should go mute. How funny, how much I have to say, trying to justify myself. Justifying, is what it is—"

"Admiral."

He flushed a bit. "… I'm sorry."

"You apologize too much, you know that?" Yamato smiled softly.

"Should I not?"

"When there's something you realistically should feel sorry for, and you really feel sorry, you should."

"… all right. … you hotel."

Her cheeks were coated red and her eyebrows slanted. "I-I'm not!"

"Mm-hmm… I know." He leaned over and looked out at the window, to the sea. Some cherry blossom trees also stood outside the window. "I love the color of spring. It leaves me in love with everything."

"Is that so?"

He nodded. "I feel inspired… to reply to you with some cheeky line of a sort…"

She smiled softly.

"I should get back to work."

"You should let me help you with those reports, Admiral. It's no issue if you'd like me to."

"That sounds nice."

And for there being not a better way to end this, it is easy to simply say that they worked until dinner time on those reports. Expeditionary fleets came and went.

Isn't spring nice?