A/N: I'm doing this story to practice writing in first person present tense, so there might be some mistakes.
And yes, I do aware that stories in present tense tend to annoy people, I just want to train a little. Sorry.
OOO
OOO
I. Am. Tired.
My admiral certainly did not hold back when she made it clear to me that my mistake yesterday was not appreciated. I spent so many hours in the captain quarters of the JDS Kaga being chewed on by that middle-aged woman. So many that I ended up sleeping in almost until noon due to the combined fatigue of being shot at in the field and the administrational nightmare all-nighter.
When I woke up, my sisters were all already gone from our shared room, leaving me alone on the top bunk in one of the two bunk beds that were our amenities. Where are they now I have no idea. Kanmusu posted in aircraft carriers, or helicopter destroyers as the politicians like to call them, have a somewhat similar status as that of naval aviators, meaning that we're all privileged bastards with way too much free time.
Currently, I am standing on the flight deck, staring at the seemingly endless sea of the Japanese Exclusive Economic Zone. I think I can just see the remnant of a Chinese military base just near the horizon.
I walk around all the transport helicopters being prepped for today's operations. Most of them are the latest model heavy lifters, modified to carry Kanmusu and their riggings quickly into position. As a battleship, I really dislike it when I have to parachute out in full rigging. I always seem to lose altitude a little bit too fast.
Finally, I reach my usual spot at the aft end of the deck, where it is less crowded. I see the sea before me, beautiful, alluring, and full of many, many things that want to kill me.
Bloody bring it.
"BUUUUURRNIIIIING LOOOOOOOOVE!"
It might be corny, but somewhere along my career it has become my battle cry of sort. Everyone now expects me to say it every day to raise up morale, and I don't really mind. It brings some youth back into my decrepit, rustic body. Plus, screaming on top of my lungs feels surprisingly good, especially when I see the sailors around me start pumping their fists into the air, shouting their renewed vigour.
I turn on my heel and start walking back to the lower deck where the galleys are located, waving at the smiling enlisted men and women around me. Some of them even giving me salutes even though I'm currently out of uniform. Insignias or not, they know that I'm a Kanmusu, and thus has the rank of captain. Most Kanmusu does. Kanmusu of most nations generally have either the rank of captain, lieutenant commander, or equals (e.g. the french's 'capitaine de corvette'), or at least any rank high enough to hold the highest command of a large warship.
Returning the salutes of so many people slows me down a bit, but I finally reached the galley, where some of my comrades are having their late breakfast or early lunch. Like most Kanmusu posted on a small ship like the JDS Kaga, they mostly, with a few exceptions, consist of girls of normal human size at the very largest. Corvettes, destroyers, escort carriers, light cruisers, and small, older battleships bearing fourteen inchers or below. I really like this arrangement, mostly because I get to hold command more often. With most Kanmusu having the same rank, hierarchy usually gets decided in an ad-hoc manner based on a task force's purpose. On land bases or larger carriers, task forces usually formed around the fleet carriers, with battleships like me relegated to escort positions as glorified AA platforms.
"Sis!"
Somewhere along the far wall, Hiei, one of my sisters, calls me out. Well, I said sister, but if you stand us side by side only those that already knew us could ever guess that we're related. Unlike me, Hiei was purely built in Japan, and as a Kanmusu she possesses all the traits of a Japanese beauty. Round face, round eyes, full lips, jet black hair, and a full set of '36 cm 41st Year Type' naval cannons. In stark contrast, I was built in England with British steel, and as a woman, I boast sharp facial features, thin lips, triangular jaws, and other European traits including hazelnut hair and a set of Vickers 14/45 cannons.
"Sis! You're awake!" Hiei says as she approaches me. She's wearing her field uniform, a somewhat over the top version of a shrine maiden outfit that emphasises her beauty really well. I myself am wearing a casual attire that still adheres to the looser uniform regulation inflicted upon Kanmusu, consisting of jeans and a bluish shirt that I won't mind getting dirty. After all, we're on a carrier, and we Kanmusu know how disgusting life on a ship could be.
"Have you had your breakfast yet?" she asks with a hopeful face, and I immediately know what she's going to ask me.
"No." I say softly, almost whimpering.
"Then you're lucky, sis! I've just finished a batch of my special curry!"
I quietly look around, and see my comrades looking at me with pity in their eyes. Indeed, If one wanted to describe Hiei's cooking skill, the word 'nightmarish' would be repeated many, many times. I still remember my first time eating her curry. I will remember that moment and the many days of numb tongue after to my grave. Or rather, into my urn. I'm still Japanese, after all.
Talking about first time...
"Where's Iowa? I'm sure she'll like to have a taste of your cooking. I always enjoy a first-timer's reaction to your curry." I say, hiding a snicker.
"Well..." Hiei scratches the back of her head, seemingly hesitant to answer my thoughtless question.
"You can be honest with your sister, Hiei." I say reassuringly.
"Uh..." she begins slowly. "Honestly, I don't think she have left her room since yesterday..."
Now that one got my attention.
"And none of you have checked on her?"
"The American destroyers didn't seem to bother, so I don't see why I should."
"Hiei, all five of them are busy being prepared for their next sortie, of course they can't do anything."
Truly, destroyers are very underappreciated. Their low maintenance cost makes them ideal for daily operations, an advantage that the navy seems keen to squeeze every last bit of from the poor little girls. The American DDs were barely given the time to rest before being put to work, and they seemed oddly happy about it, too.
"It..." Hiei stuttered, only letting her lips give the slightest of opening as she speaks. "It's just that...she's hard to speak with, you know?"
I quickly remember the seemingly permanent, friendly smile that always marks Iowa's face.
"Really? I didn't get that impression."
"Well, It's hard for me, for us." Hiei looks around, and I see that my comrades are trying to avert their eyes from me and my sister, trying their hardest not to get involved. "I mean, she's the first of her kind here, and..."
Ah.., her kind, huh?
"Say no more. I understand." I smile as I pat my sister on top of her head. "Let me handle this, okay?"
Hiei answers silently with a sheepish nod.
With my hunger completely forgotten, I begin walking out of the galley, ignoring the stares on my back. As I make my way back towards the battleship wing, I suddenly feel a strong sensation tugging at the back of my conscience. A feeling somewhat similar to what I had felt when I saw Haruna being wounded yesterday. A sense of worry befitting of an older sister, or maybe even a mother.
I swiftly reach the door to the room that had been assigned to the first American battleship girl in Japan. I had walked with the utmost confidence until I got here, but now I find all that confidence has evaporated like a spilt water on a hot rocky road. What if I were just being a nuisance? I take pride in my ability to care for my friends. You could even say that I've put myself in a position akin to that of a foster parent to many younger ships. Now, Iowa is one of the youngest ships I've ever encountered, but what if the cultural barrier is higher than I thought? Americans value their privacy, right? Is an Asian-style sudden house visit without any prior scheduling a little bit too much?
Before I realise, I've already spent a full minute tottering about near Iowa's front door like a punished child. This is really frustrating. This is not like the usual me at all! Why am I acting like this?!
And then, suddenly, I hear it.
A quiet, muffled sobbing, one that one could expect coming from a teenage girl burying her head into her pillow and just...let go. It was like hearing the call of a lost kitten. Almost as if a thread had snapped inside my heart, all my doubt disappears as my hand moves up to knock on the door.
"Miss Iowa?" I call out.
The sobbing suddenly stops when the source suddenly realises that someone's listening.
"Y-yes?" Iowa answers from across the door. Her voice is weak and staggered, a great contrast to how she had greeted me the first time I've met her.
"Are you alright?" I ask. A rather bog standard inquiry, I admit
"Y...yeah! I'm fine!" Iowa shouts, quickly trying to compose herself, from the sound of it. "I just thought that I'd sleep in, that's all! The Admiral doesn't need me yet anyway."
"What about breakfast, then?" I counter. "You know it'll hurt if a capital ship doesn't get enough food."
That's the truth. Battleships and carriers often get a lot of flak for being gluttons, but it's really not about gluttony, more about practicality. when we're empty, we literally cannot operate, and it's physically painful for us, too. Even now I feel a little bit weak from missing my breakfast.
"J...just leave, alright?" Iowa says meekly, apparently running out of excuses.
"Look, I'm just going to go back to the galley and get you some food. Is that alright with you?" No capital ship can ever refuse an offering of food. It's in their nature.
Iowa takes about a quarter of a minute before she gives an answer.
"O...okay."
Even without seeing her face, I can Imagine her desperately trying to wipe her face with a ton of tissues. Well, this will give her some time to calm down, I guess.
"I'll be back in a minute. You just sit tight, aye?"
I make a swift return back to the galley and grab myself two large battleship-sized plates for Iowa and me. One I fill with bauxite toasts, oiled strip bacons, and a sunny-side up. One I fill with a portion of Hiei's curry, because I'm a sodding masochist (and also because Hiei is looking at me with a sisterly, expectant face).
When I finally reach Iowa's door again, My hands are so full that I have to knock with my foot.
"A second." Iowa answers my knock, and indeed, the door opens before me just a second later.
The girl standing before me can barely be related to the almost obscenely cheery girl that I had met before. Her hair is a mess, sticking to her skin from tears and sweat. Her recently wiped eyes are still wet and swollen, and her posture is slumped, as if her own breasts were a little too heavy for her.
"A bit of a mess, aren't you, lass?" I declare with a smile before Iowa can say otherwise.
A weak smirk perched itself on Iowa's face.
"I guess I am."
Iowa steps to the side, giving me room to walk into her room.
As expected of a personnel that has just arrived, Iowa's room is barely furnished, with grey walls and a single, Yamato sized bed. She at least got a desk and a really big, wooden chair tucked in one corner.
"Ehehe...a bit bland, isn't it?" Iowa says, faking a laugh.
"Want me to help you decorate when we enter port?" I offer. In times like this, it's better to start with a casual conversation to calm things down a bit.
"I guess...the bed's a little bit too short for me, so my ankles have been dangling all night."
Now that she's mentioned it, Iowa looks a little bit taller than even the Yamato. Living in such a small carrier will certainly be difficult for her, but I guess having at least one powerhouse ship to take care of the things the smaller ships can't is quite nice.
"I'm glad that you're here, you know." I speak my mind loudly. "The least I can do is to make you comfortable. I know a good furniture shop near Sasebo, let's go there together later, okay?"
"O...okay." Iowa says softly, suddenly looking flustered. I wonder what's bothering her.
"So, you want to eat by yourself, or do you want me to feed you?" I say jokingly as I put the plates on the desk.
To my surprise, Iowa takes a moment to seemingly consider my offer seriously before she suddenly shakes her head, her face red.
"I...I'll eat by myself, thank you!"
I chuckle. "There's no need to be that hyper, child. It was merely a joke."
"Uu..."
Iowa looks really irritated when I said that my offer of feeding her was just me being a joker. It's kind of cute, really.
"Can I use your chair?" I ask politely, handing Iowa her plate and utensils.
"S...sure. I'll eat on the bed."
Iowa sits on her bed. The corner of the desk is still close enough for her to use as a table, so we end up eating side by side with Iowa's plate right next to mine.
"Is it good?" I ask as Iowa begins chewing on her food.
"Uhm." Iowa answers, as much as she can with a mouthful. It's probably meant as a 'yes'.
"So...want to tell me what that was about?"
It appears that Iowa has calmed down a little bit, so I think it's safe to poke on the matter, at least a little. For a moment, Iowa's face suddenly looks downcast, but then she looks at me and gives me a tired smile.
"You know, I really enjoy talking with you."
That statement is so sudden that I actually feel butterflies in my stomach. What's that about?
"In fact, I really enjoy talking with everyone. I love seeing people's expressions as I crack a joke, seeing them laugh, starting conversations, that kind of stuff."
"Uh-huh." I give a noncommittal grunt, just to tell Iowa that I'm still listening.
"Back home, my friends and sisters always said that I tended to bring life into the room, and I think I got why. I really like it when people just...lit up, when I'm speaking to them."
I nod.
"So, you're a really socially adept girl. Any reason why you shut yourself in your room, not talking to anyone?"
Iowa looks back down to her plate.
"Well, the thing is, I can't really do that here."
"Hm?"
"I've actually come to the galley this morning, and I tried to do my usual. Barging in all cheerful-like, trying to start fun conversations..."
"I guess that didn't end well for you?"
"Heh, they all just stared at me." Iowa gives a painful chuckle. "And I thought my Japanese was quite flawless, too."
"It pretty much is." I answer honestly. Sure, you can definitely still hear Iowa's accent, but her linguistic skill is definitely better than some native Japanese that I've encountered in my long career.
"I even tried using faux English to bait for some laughs..."
"Faux English?"
"Yeah, speaking English using katakana and things like that..."
Ah, yes. The infamous 'Engrish'. I sometimes do that too at parties.
"And how that worked out for you?"
Iowa sighs.
"When they started looking at me like I'm some sort of a strange deep-sea fish, I just ran back and, well..."
Iowa stops talking, and from the look on her face, I know she's not going to speak again. So I guess it's my turn.
"The way I see it, you moving in a little bit too fast."
"Hm?"
"You're the first American here, and that carries a lot of baggage. You can't expect them to be too friendly at the first meeting."
Iowa sighs again.
"Yeah...I probably had an unrealistic expectation after you've been so friendly with me."
"Well, I am just that special of a girl, I guess."
"So..." Iowa slowly looks into my eyes. "Any advice?"
"Hm..." I push a finger into my chin, thinking. "I'd say you just stick around with me for the next couple of days, get the hang of our culture, sense of humour, and things of that nature."
Iowa face suddenly looks hopeful.
"You'll help me?"
"Of course. As I've said, I'm really glad that you're here. I think all of my sisters are free this evening. We could meet up in your room, get to know each other. It'd live up the place a bit, at the very least."
For the first time since I've entered, Iowa finally gives a genuine smile.
"That...that'd be nice, yeah..."
I smile back at Iowa, and as a friendly gesture, I tap her lightly on her exposed shoulder. I find the way the massive girl squirms when I touch her skin somewhat amusing.
"Stay strong, okay, big girl?"
My tongue in cheek comment is merely responded by a silent nod before Iowa goes back to her food.
"You haven't touched your food." Notices Iowa, her mouth half full.
"What, you want some?" I say jokingly, raising a spoonful of Hiei's curry towards Iowa.
"Sure." Iowa pecks on my spoon in an instant, devouring its content. Her eyes suddenly widen.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?"
Priceless.
"THIS FOOD IS AMAZING!"
What.
