PART THE TWENTY-FOURTH
IN WHICH A SUBMARINE WAS PROVEN TO BE THE WORST POSSIBLE WELCOME PARTY
Akagi closed her eyes, and felt the cool, clear water of the Hoarwell beneath her feet. Her small fleet had left Rivendell at noon for the naval district.
When they left Rivendell the great eagle was still delirious: she'd heard goblin weapons tended to be tipped with deadly poison and filth, and the poor eagle had been struck by many. It was only later after the deed did Akagi learn just how instrumental her effort was to saving his life – much as she was grateful to him for bringing her fairy back.
Akagi would have very much wished to stay until the eagle would have recuperated. Bow to him. Say "Good day" and "Thank you". Behave like a grateful polite Japanese woman should. Circumstances had dictated otherwise: one, it was an urgent order, and two, part of her felt like the sooner she left the more thankful the groaning chefs of Rivendell would be. The poor elves had given her a behind-the-back nickname of 'the all-consuming hungry ghost of the Trollshaws' (translation helpfully provided for by Hachi), and Akagi thought to carry it proudly.
As for what she was transporting? Well, thay was another good story.
After the Admiral himself, Kirishima, Jintsuu, Master Elrond and the elf on the sleek swan-shaped boat she was towing behind her, Akagi was the first to know of what was inside that handwritten note (or at least that part of it relevant to her). The elf – Elrohir was the name, the other son of Master Elrond – was to be posted on a (semi-) permanent basis at the naval district: as an ambassador, too, but also as an advisor and a teacher of the local culture.
Now Akagi probably wouldn't speak for all of the bored capital ships moored at base, but she thought having a native scholar around as an ambassador and advisor was something they should have done from day one. Of course hindsight was ten out of ten, she knew, and it wasn't fair blaming the Admiral or the general staff for not thinking of this earlier. Between food concern, various morale issues, and the fact that they knew basically nothing about literally everything around them, there was only so much you could expect. After all, human attention is a limited thing, and keeping everything from falling completely apart over the last six weeks was in and of itself a small miracle.
She turned about.
The boat she was towing behind felt absolutely weightless, and not just because it really was that light of a load, but also because of how well it was made, that the ten meter of engraved wood with an elf and his luggage sitting on it felt light as feather. A curious thought came to her; if this little boat would become a fleetgirl, what would she look like? Akagi thought she would be like an acrobatic three-year-old wearing a cap with little swan-wings attached to it, who'd think nothing of balancing on tightropes or trapezeing a hundred feet above the ground. That sort of thing.
In a way the quiet cruise made her more at ease with the surrounding. In another way, the voyage was proving a bit lonely. Asashio was screening about half a mile ahead of her, and Amatsukaze was half a mile behind. There were several of Zuihou's planes circling the perimeter to be safe, too. With how sudden the goblins of the other day popped up, and with a very important person to ferry, they really could take no chances.
The formation had left Akagi alone with an elf who didn't talk much. Or at all. They'd been sailing for two hours now at a comfortable enough speed to lull people to sleep, and he still hadn't spoken a word to her; and there was not much Akagi could have taken it but as a kind of tacit hostility. Not at all what she would have expected from an ambassador.
But absolute silence had a way of getting to her. It would get to anyone, truly speaking, and more so for Akagi. It made her feel she'd done something wrong.
At long last, Akagi thought she should do something to fix that silence. Give him a nudge or two, that kind of thing.
"Elrohir-san," she asked. "Am I going too fast for you?"
"Oh." The elf turned his head up. His brows were knitted in deep concern. "My apologies," he said. "I was lost in thoughts – how embarrassing."
"I see." Another nudge. "What kind of thoughts exactly, if you don't mind my intruding?"
"A great many things," he said, "most of which I would like to keep to myself, thank you very much." Now his voice was suddenly more mellow. "Not for unwillingness to share, you understand, but because they are quite disjointed and disorganized. If I should speak, I would like to do so with wisdom, not in confusion."
And now suddenly he felt older to her: not just old in an age sense, but also in a venerable sense. It was a funny thing, for the spirit of a ship given form like Akagi, the notion of age. The elf sitting there, despite looking so youthful and energetic, had been alive for longer than Japan had been a nation-state. This being who had seen so much, who had probably done even more, was flabbergasted because of how foreign and alien and incomprehensible the fleet girls were. And yet with all of that depth of knowledge and vastness of experience almost incomprehensible for any human being, he was being confused by the mere fact that Akagi and the fleet existed.
And could she have blamed him? If the table had been flipped, Akagi would have been lost for words too. "It's alright," she said.
She could respect his will; because it took a certain kind of humbleness and wisdom to not speak unless absolutely certain of the subject matter. Akagi herself would like to do that – though she failed, too, from time to time.
For a time the silence reigned, and Akagi focused on the waterway. The trees were green, the grass beneath the shade lively, and occasionally the sound of wildlife from either side of the river was heavenly to her ears.
And then they came along that patch of the river where she ran into the goblins.
The mere sight of the site made her shudder a little. It had been cleaned up now, to some extent; the water was no longer thick with black blood, all the goblin bits had been dealt with, the forest floor scrubbed of viscera as much as could be done. But the trees burnt and knocked down by her AA guns weren't going to come back any time soon, and Akagi preferred not to think of just how many of the innocently chirping birds had been caught in the crossfire.
She closed her eyes, and at once images of the slaughter flashed into her mind. The scream. The explosions. The blood and spilled innards. Flesh ripped apart. And then other pictures entered her mind, of the same sort of violence – except now it wasn't the goblins any more who were in pieces, but the bright young men who'd guided her helm and tended her boiler and manned her guns and piloted her air wing...
Please scuttle me.
Her boilers sputtered.
Then Elrohir's voice rang out behind her. "You are shivering, Lady Akagi."
Her eyes snapped open. "Ah, I... I'm sorry," she said. "It is-"
"No need to apologize, milady, at the very least not to me," said the elf. "Rest assured, my kin and I have cleaned up the dead, and eased what sufferings wrought to the kelvar and olvar of this part of the woodland as we could."
His voice was a lot less bitter than Akagi feared it would be. Or perhaps it was cold rage, or sardonic sniping. Honestly, she couldn't tell.
"I mean... I am aware I've done something I... shouldn't," she said. "Even though it's self-defense-"
"I did not mean it as a chastisement – and I beg your pardon if it sounds like one," said Elrohir. "You did help us rid the world of a marauding warband of goblin backed by so many wargs and a couple of trolls, who would have no doubt caused terrible suffering to the Free People unfortunate enough to be overtaken by them."
Akagi turned about, and saw him leaning a bit forward, keeping perfect balance as they passed through the river bend.
"All the same," he continued, more slowly and a lot more pensive than before – not to say he hadn't already been in a ruminant mood. "There is one thing I should like to ask you; out of genuine curiosity rather than animosity. When you unleash such destruction to your foe – it matters not if they are fair or foul – what, exactly, graces your mind? Relish and joy? Pain and sorrow? Something in between? Or... nothing at all?"
At once Akagi didn't want to do anything but to sit down, on the water if she could, and rub her temples.
That was why fighting goblins was harder than fighting Abyssals in one thing, and just one thing. Fighting Abyssals was an almost bloodless kind of warfare: little blood, little gore, little dismemberment if any, only explosions and sorrow in the air. Fighting goblins, or at least that one massacre she was dishing out, was not so sanitized. Just thinking of how much blood and guts she'd spilled, or how limbs were blown apart by her weapons made her stomach lurch.
And of course, there was that time...
Please scuttle me.
The experience hurt her in a way almost shameful to admit, and yet there it was: the memory that made it painful and nasty and uncomfortable was now as much a part of Akagi's existence as her gleaming rigging and elite air wing.
"It's not... it's not what I would like to dwell on too much," she said. "B-but if it would make you feel better about... about all this, I didn't take any joy in the... in the killing."
"I am glad," said Elrohir. "I was in the same room when Lady Nagato and my father spoke about what you are, Lady Akagi. It is not beyond the realm of imagination that weapons of war would assume a fea of their own and walk abroad as you do," Akagi turned round again: now his eyes were gleaming at her, almost inquisitively so. "But I must ask you this: How do you feel about the whole business of battle, as weapons designed to kill and destroy?"
Akagi's answer was both deeply ingrained into her existence... and terribly personal at the same time. "We do what we must," she said. "We've been made because we were needed, to defend Japan and make her great. And then we've been called again, once more because we were needed, to defend Japan and make her... not diminish."
"But now you are in Middle-earth," said Elrohir. "There is no 'Japan' in Arda. What, then, do you exist for now?"
"Perhaps that means we are needed still," said Akagi. Funny, she'd otherwise found his questions a bit... uncomfortable – but right now anything, anything to take her mind off the killing of goblins would be good. "Because after loyalty to Emperor and Japan, our loyalty lies with family, friends and the organization to which we belong. And... if our family and friends and organization are here, and they need my bow and my rigging, then that is my purpose." She sighed. "Elrohir-san, is it a paradox for a weapon of war to wish for peace?"
Now Elrohir's gaze grew gentler – sympathetic, even.
"Not if such weapon had been crafted with beauty, not bloodshed, in mind," he said. "This I have only heard, not witnessed; but our bards sing of such time in the Uttermost West when our kin used to devise swords and spears and arrows, not for fear of foes who may assail us, but because of their dedication of the craft and their love for the mastery that practice would bring. Wrought with dedication and care and application of craft, even a sword would be more than just a tool for slaying."
A soft giggle escaped Akagi's lips. "I see."
"Perhaps you disagree?"
"No," said Akagi. "It's just that... what you said reminds me of some of our people's own legendary swordsmiths. Would you like to hear of Masamune and Muramasa, greatest of smiths of their time?"
Elrohir nodded quickly. "Do indulge me," he said. It should really be written into their handbook that elves without fail were very fond of stories and folklore most of all.
The legend of Masamune was pleasant to recite. Like a whole lot of other Japanese folk tales, it indulged the Japanese people in the notion that they were meant to be a nation of peace and wisdom and understanding, illusory as this notion had been in Akagi's time. But it was a soothing sort of notion, and to a mind muddled by the morals of war as good as a dose of Philopon.
By the time she got to the part where the two smiths had their competition – how one sword cut through a leaf flowing downstream before it even touched the edge and how the other did not – Elrohir was sitting with arms neatly folded and attentive like a keen schoolboy.
"I would have judged Masamune the one with greater mastery," he said.
"Ah, then you are of one mind with the sage of that legend. That is exactly how the tale goes down; Masamune won," said Akagi, "because a sword that reveled in so much killing intent would be both a cruel weapon and a cursed one. Not a good one."
"And yet your people still devised such terrible weapons that you wield, nay, that you are," Elrohir pointed out. "Did they not learn anything from the wisdom of their elders?"
Akagi stumbled on her words for a bit. It was a logic that she had taken for granted without question throughout her existence. If the best weapons were those of mercy, then yes, why did they exist?
"We... didn't have much of a choice," she said at last. "When someone else makes a big enough stick to threaten us, and we don't make a stick as big – or bigger – in return, that's like inviting them to trample all over us, and we can't accept that. In time sticks become swords, swords become guns, guns become gunships." Her chuckle sounded more bitter than she thought. "It's funny how our desire to protect ourselves turned so ugly so quickly, right?"
Elrohir sat still for a time. "That is a kind of wisdom I cannot impart to you, for that is a quandary we have never confronted," he then admitted. "But as to comforting words, perhaps I can give you something else in gratitude for the story you have told."
Then he picked up his harp, which was under his cloak all along, and plucked a few strings. And then he straightened his posture, and held the harp close, and then really began.
Now she didn't know what he was singing, but his voice soothed her to the very core. Apparently the wildlife thought the same: from the sky and the nearby woods a large flock of colorful birds was slowly gathering. There were parrots, there were swallows, there were magpies, there were nightingales, there were a couple of hawks and kingfishers too. The larger remained aflight, circling over the boat just above the forest canopy on either side. The smaller ones unshyly descended upon them, perching themselves on the elven-boat and about Elrohir, and joined his songs with their own singing.
A few of the less shy ones had found their way past Elrohir and his harp. They'd found Akagi hair and clothes particularly fascinating: one was perched on her shoulder, another trying to burrow through her hair, and a third hovering for a time at her waist. The more mischievous part of Akagi had thought to have her deck-fairies take as many photos of the scene as they could manage and blackmail Nagato with them.
In fact, she didn't have to tell: some of the cheekier fairies were already scuttling about, cameras in hand. Flash, flash, flash. Barely five minutes and Akagi had had enough material for a small album. Most wonderfully, that many flashes in quick succession didn't even frighten off the birds!
A very, very satisfied smile came to Akagi. "Can you summon them at will like this?"
"Not summon," said Elrohir. "They've come of their own free will. Good music and sincere company brings you much of value: you'd find yourself friends in the most unexpected places." His voice grew a little deeper, but more relaxed. "And a boon oft begets a boon in return."
"I..." Akagi's lips trembled a little. "We'll take it into advisement."
She slowed down to five knots, and let the music pacify the nasty things within her.
It was a little past dawn when the naval district's pier became visible in the distance.
They'd traveled through the night – more slowly, but without stop. It was the river cruise she was meant to have since they'd come to Middle-earth.
There on the pier Asashio was already waiting, waving her hands about. "Akagi-san!" she cried.
"So... this is your naval district," said Elrohir. He hadn't caught a wink of sleep, and yet he looked quite fresh – fresher and more at ease than when they had set off, actually.
Now Akagi made her way to the pier, and guided the little boat into the mooring.
"I'm sorry the welcome isn't as... well, as much as it could be," said Akagi. "We haven't told most of the staff that you're coming. We'll have a big announcement after you've spoken to the Admiral and Kirishima-san."
"I would be fine with it," said Elrohir. Off the boat's bottom he jumped, like a swallow, and landed five feet above on the pier itself.
He looked upon the brick-and-mortar pier, and then at the tall, square buildings around him. The only animate part on his face was his brows, which kept quirking. Akagi couldn't read at once if he liked or disliked what he was seeing.
His first question when Akagi walked up to the pier was not at all what she expected. "May I ask," he said, "how long ago was all of this built?"
"In stages," said Akagi. "The pier hasn't changed a lot over the past, say, five decades, and there are parts of the naval district that dates back a century. Unfortunately a good part of the port was hit by an air strike about two years ago and has been since extensively rebuilt." She winked proudly. "My people work fast."
Elrohir nodded and frowned at the same time. Fascination and disapproval shown in a single expression. "I see," he said.
"Let's go – there's a shortcut just over here," said Akagi, and began walking off. "I'm sure the Admiral has prepared something of a welcome party at his office." Food had never quite failed to comfort her, why should it this time?
The problem, however, was that the shortcut through the dock into the district proper passed through the submarine bay.
It was only when Akagi saw a glimpse of long, pointy purple hair and a school swimsuit with 'I-19' written on it that she realized she's done something particularly regrettable. Iku was standing in her way, a clipboard in her hand and playing with one of her torpedoes with the other.
The moment her eyes fell upon the trio, she let the torpedo drop on the ground with a clonk. "H-eey, Akagi-san!" she shouted.
The mere presence of the submarine seemed to have made Asashio red in the face. "Iku-chan?" she said. "A-are you sure you're supposed to be-"
"Hey, that's fine, that's fine! Iku has her sources and her permissions!" she waved her free hand. "So... this fancy elf is the reason why the Admiral told us to behave ourselves, heeh~" Iku was alternating between her clipboard and Elrohir's face. A sort of dissonantly unchildlike flash came to her childlike face.
Elrohir coughed into his palm. "Pardon me, Miss," he began, "but-" He never got to finish her sentence when Iku shoved herself well inside his personal space.
"So, so, so!" she began cheerfully.
Iku was having one of those blushing, mischievous and not entirely pure (entirely not pure?) grin of hers, from ear to ear. Now she was hovering all over the elf, from back to front, like he was a precious specimen to be dissected for SCIENCE! (Or whatever it was that passed for science in that head of hers). Her stare was drilling into him.
This... sight filled Akagi with indescribable dread.
"Iku-chan, I don't think-"
Too late. "Iku heard you're the guy who did Nagato-san, right?" Iku said in her sing-song voice. "So – how – did – it – feel – like?"
Oh. No.
Akagi cast a sideway glance, red-hot embarrassment flooding her.
Asashio's eyes were swirling.
The poor elf looked like he was going to faint.
PSA: The first chapter of this fanfic now has fanart! All credit to Leafymechypen on SpaceBattles!
Check the SB thread for deets!