"What Will We Do With a Battleship Early in the Morning?"
A/N: Because this chapter is so long (it's 6 parts or so, this is part 3/6), here is the third fragment detailing Mikasa's activities while her crew wander about. If you read this chapter just as it came off the press, note that I didn't realize until looking over it that FF fails to save my micro divisions, so my apologies if the pacing here and in previous chapters look awkward.
"Is there any reason why I'm being marched about blindfolded?" The pre-dreadnought demanded.
"We have a surprise for you, dess!"
"By the heavens above I sure hope it's not Hiei's cooking…"
"Hey! I was the Emperor's official ship in the 1930's, I know how to cook!"
"Which is why you and Kongō passed out cold when the two of you worked together to make the ultimate curry a few years ago…"
"I thought that was for us! I mean, some fourteen-inch shells in a meal never killed anybody right?!"
"Haruna disagrees! It is not normal to make rainbow faces! Kirishima even had to count to three to see if you were okay!"
"When Haruna voices her opinion with vivid imagery, I know it's bad," Mikasa snickered. "Are we there yet?"
"Almost! And Hiei doesn't make too bad of a curry, it's just, ah, exquisite, Mikasa-san! I mean compared to Ashigara's curry that could singe even an Indian's tastebuds, Zekamashi's instant curry, and the-uh 'curry' the aircraft carriers made, it was second to none."
"That's right," Hiei began audibly dancing, "if it wasn't for Nagato's love of DesDiv 6, we would have won first place."
Dunk. Thock.
"We're here, dess!" Kongō cooed as Mikasa felt the blindfold lift off her face.
"Welcome to our home! We hope you'll like to stay over sometime," the eldest fast battleship crossed her fingers together.
"Fascinating," Mikasa merely replied as she scanned about the room. It was rather apparent which side of the dormitory was Kongō's and which was the three sisters'.
In the center of the room stood a sturdy wooden table, very much like the ones her officers gathered around during important meetings. To its right was a series of bunks arranged for three people; this area of the room was rather Spartan, with only some woodcuts and photographs lining the walls. Mikasa smiled slightly as she took note of one of the pictures: it was one taken shortly after the end of World War I, with herself surrounded by the Kongō sisters. Those were amusing times back then (before the world seemed to have gone mad) with Kirishima looking rather uncomfortable with her posture while Haruna gave a radiant grin into the camera.
Meanwhile, to her far left was a planter box filled from end to end with budding tea plants, some of which had been clearly harvested for their pungent flavor. Beside it was a blown-up map of northwestern England and a slightly-smaller Union Jack. There was also small blue-and-white plaque emblazoned with the words "YOUR COURAGE, YOUR CHEERFULNESS, YOUR RESOLUTION, WILL BRING US VICTORY." The significance of such words was lost on her; Kongō was always cheery: a casual glance behind her at the twirling, miko-wearing dessboat emphasized her opinion.
That's when she noticed it, or rather several its, as Mikasa took note of Kongō's trajectory and Kirishima's restful position atop her bunk. Much to her horror, it was everywhere! Not even Haruna was safe.
"Uh, Mikasa…is there something wrong?" Kirishima asked as Mikasa's head unhinged itself and gave an angry owl-like glare at the fast battleship's lower body.
"What is that," she demanded, poking the narrow strip of skin around Kirishima's legs suspiciously.
"Absolute territory, dess!" Kongō winked. "It's a fashionable new style, don'tcha think?"
"Kongō dear," Mikasa began sweetly, assuming a proper English accent, "I know you are extremely desperate to get inside Goto's trousers, but that is pushing it. You look utterly desperate with that thing."
"Actually," Kirishima cleared her throat, "Kongō is correct. Mainichi Shimbun had a discussion about it when we first started wearing it; apparently some television series made it popular a couple of years before we four first came back."
"I suppose that I might be a little too close minded," Mikasa mused. "I always did wonder if Azuma would burst a boiler at the time I wore a dinner jacket…"
"So would you like to try, Mikasa-san?" Kongō cooed.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" The pre-dreadnought shouted, blushing furiously. "I'm adventurous, not mad! A knee-length skirt is the most I'll go."
"I do have some tartan skirts if you want to try them mom," Hiei offered. "They're a bit short on me, but with your stature they'll probably fit just right."
"A tempting offer, but I'm Barrovian, not Scottish. Got any in green and red?"
"Yep!"
"Good, save them for Asahi whenever she gets back."
"She's from Glasgow?" Kirishima started.
"Clydebank, but it's close enough. Anyway, we might as well get this over with. Mind if I scavenge the cupboards?"
"Got anything in particular mind?" Hiei called out.
"No, not really. I'm not that picky."
"Nope."
"No."
"Nah."
"No thanks."
"I'll pass."
"Never!"
"There goes our entire wardrobe…"
"Not that picky, she said," Hiei muttered as the four sisters stood clear of the ever-growing pile of discarded clothing.
"Seriously, how on earth do humans walk around in this," Mikasa mused as she carefully rolled down her black pencil skirt. "I feel trapped."
"It is meant for business," Haruna smiled uneasily. "It's not that bad really when you're walking steadily."
"I'd prefer a hakama over this any day, though unfortunately," she grabbed her forehead, "all you have are short skirts to complement the haori of your miko outfits."
"That's what stockings are for."
"Mmm, but still, I'd prefer something a bit comfier and less…suggestive if you will."
"Proper stockings under a skirt can be hardly considered suggestive," Kirishima countered. "If you want pants you can always see if the jeans California sent over are to your liking. She kind of forgot that I'm considerably taller than her, so they're pretty small."
"I saw them, but I don't like the colors. Ruggedness aside, they're a bit too bright. Aha, I've got it!" the pre-dreadnought's face lit up. "Kongō, you're a sensible woman, aren't you? Fancy me taking a peek at your clothes?"
"Go ahead!"
"You sure that's a good idea?" Kirishima mumbled through the corners of her mouth.
"Of course! We're both Barrovian after all!"
"I sure hope so," the spectacled battleship worried as the pre-dreadnought dove into the closet as if it were a swimming pool. They didn't have to wait long before she returned with her three-hundred-and-seventeenth outfit (unfortunately, yes, Kirishima was counting).
"Pretty marvelous, no?" Mikasa smirked as she adjusted her sun hat and patted down a long, brown fur coat.
"For some reason though I don't think it's supposed to do that," Hiei pointed at the long, wedding-gown-like train flowing behind the pre-dreadnought.
"Of course not; this was meant for someone of a bigger frame and a much taller stature. If I remember correctly this was Kongō's outfit when she first arrived in Japan," Mikasa smiled warmly as she recalled the memory, "and was expecting Japan to be some sort of autumnal tundra."
"I was expecting it to be cold, dess," Kongō shuffled in embarrassment. "North English winters aren't any fun."
"Not at all," she nodded in agreement. "Didn't change the fact that Asahi and I got a laugh out of your reaction. Like the British Empire, a true English joke doesn't happen without being at someone else's expense. That said, I might as well put this back where it belongs."
"And here I was hoping that we were done," Kirishima sighed as Mikasa resumed her search.
"Personally, I'm glad that she didn't go with that…if Goto found out about my little 'mistake' I don't think I would-"
"Hey Kongō," the pre-dreadnought stuck her head out. "What's with the leather harness? Do you go horseback riding or something?"
"Uh…you could say that, dess…."
"I didn't realize that there were stables on base."
"Well, it's not exactly a horse," Kongō amended, wracking her brain in a desperate attempt to dig herself out the ever-growing hole she found herself in.
"Wait. If the harness isn't meant for horseback riding then what on earth could you possibly…" Mikasa's eyes bulged out of their sockets in realization, the equipment falling to the floor with a heavy thud.
"Oh…my…God…"
"Not like that! Nope! Nope! Nope! That's not what I meant, Mikasa-san!"
"I did not need to know that. At all."
"That's not the only thing I keep in there!"
"You mean…there's more…?"
"NO! Just look!" There was a frantic rustling as the fast battleship dove inside the closet and began organizing her belongings. "I keep fancy stuff in here too, see? Evening gowns here, summer dresses there…you get the idea!"
"You just had to have all your dresses tailored in the Empire silhouette, didn't you?" Mikasa asked distastefully as she held one against her torso and took note of the neckline.
"Hey, those are presents from Victory herself! Can't be that scandalous if an old timer likes it, no?"
"The Regency period isn't exactly my cup of tea. If only you had something with more a modest-aha!"
The pre-dreadnought emerged from the wardrobe victoriously, a familiar purple ball gown in tow.
"I can't believe you kept this dress after all these years."
"Oh! I almost forgot I had that," she looked away and scratched her head sheepishly.
"Almost?" Hiei snorted. "Sis' cried into that thing every night when we still thought you were going to be broken up, wore it every day after you were memorialized, and wouldn't put it down until one day Goto complimented her when she tried out a miko outfit."
"Is that so…to think she'd keep my old dress in such good condition…" her voice trailed off as she caught sight of something black and white stowed away in a small drawer. Mikasa opened it to reveal its contents.
"You even kept the eboshi I gave you shortly before I went away…"
"I gave it to Nagato before Pearl Harbor who in turn handed it to Yamato shortly before Operation Ten-Go, but both of them thought it would be best to hand it back to you if you ever woke up."
"It's not mine," she laughed softly. "A corvette named Kaimon gave it to me before I sortied out to Port Arthur. I never understood her logic, but accepted it all the same. Sometimes, I wonder if she knew something I didn't; afterwards she would always treasure her time with me as if it would be her last…"
"Did she make it through the war?" Kongō asked worriedly.
"No…It's odd, isn't it? Those of us who received that hat always seemed to know when to pass it on, as if it's an hourglass…"
"Yes…hopefully you won't ever need to hand it off again…"
Mikasa approached her old friend and affectionately ruffled her hair.
"Don't worry Kongō, I'm not going away ever again," the pre-dreadnought assured her as she undressed and began tying the hat around her chin, "I promise."
"It's a bit cold this morning, don't you think?" Mikasa questioned as she stroked her bare neck. Usually she wouldn't complain, having slept through blizzards, whiteouts, and below-freezing temperatures during her decades-long rest, but something constantly felt funny, as if something was tingling her funnels. It didn't help either that it was the only region of her body that wasn't shielded from the elements by her new outfit.
"I've seen colder ones," Kirishima shook her head in disagreement, "though we're probably not the best ones to ask. Having so many water tubes means that we always feel nice and cozy. Besides, once your boilers build your fires long enough you acclimate to the weather."
"I suppose that's a problem with coal-burning engines," Mikasa sighed. "I have to worry about building enough steam," she stroked her unusually quiet stomach, "which normally take the firemen hours. Meanwhile you four are simply touch and go. Anyway, so where are we headed now?"
"A rescue mission, dess!" Kongō raised her index finger cheerfully as they made the trek up a small hill where an archery dōjō sat. "An aircraft carrier has stolen your prince, so we are here to make sure that the guilty party does not escape you!"
"You do realize that Admiral is a former samurai from Satsuma right, Kongō? If anything, it will be the aircraft carrier that needs rescuing."
"As expected of his lover," Kongō smirked knowingly, "you know his strengths and weaknesses very well."
"For the last time, Kongō," Mikasa rolled her eyes, "we're not like that."
"Oh? Then what are you two then?"
"It's really complic-"
Whrrrmmm. Whrrm. Whrrrm.
The pre-dreadnought nearly lost her footing as three strikes of white, silver, and green zoomed past her, barely evading the mountainous peak of her eboshi. When she returned to her feet, Mikasa came face-to-face with a smirking, green dōgi-wearing markswoman.
"Ah, Mikasa," the markswoman smirked, "thanks for giving my pilots a little challenge on their morning run. I'm afraid you barely missed Marshal-Admiral Tōgō and the others; Hiryū left for fleet exercises on Tokyo Bay with the Akizuki sisters. Tamon's been keeping them quite entertained with the possibilities of aviation warfare."
"You shouldn't treat warfare like a game, Sōryū," a familiar voice rang out from inside the building. "Combat is an art that should be taken seriously. Besides," the voice's pony-tailed speaker continued as she walked out beside her dark-haired partner, "you missed."
"I don't think strafing the target and hitting it within a stone's throw of the bullseye can be considered a 'miss.'"
Kthunk. Kthunk. Kthunk.
In a flash Kaga whipped out her yumi and fired off three groups of fighters in rapid succession, all of whom closed in on the training dummy with incredible speed and accuracy. Everyone clapped as Kaga's pilots hit the mock-up so hard that the target tipped over into the sea, a gaping hole where its chest had once been.
"Huh, that was a bad shot," the carrier pouted quietly. "My hand must have slipped a bit."
"Foul! I call foul!" Sōryū protested hotly. "Your Model 52's are more advanced than my Model 21's, so of course they'd perform better."
"Then do you want to try with wooden arrows, then? Maybe I'll actually be able to see the damage this time…Akagi, would you like to join us?"
"I'd love to!" she beamed, "though, how about we start off this little match with an opening shot by Yokosuka's latest ship girl?"
"Whoa whoa whoa," Mikasa gave a start and raised her hands in the air as everyone began looking at her expectantly. "Akagi, I'm no aircraft carrier; you should know this!"
"That may be true, but you've been around since the Meiji Era," Sōryū grinned, "surely all the martial spirit has molded more than your soul?"
No…Admiral and the others would sometimes reminisce about practicing the arts, but aside from Kaimon's lessons it was a dying skill.
But how can I tell them that? She worried, looking at their eager eyes. They must think I'm Nasu no Yoichi because of Tsushima…the pressure is even worse because Kongō and the others are here, her heart sinking as the fast battleship eagerly exchanged stories about the power of English bowmen at Agincourt and Crécy.
"Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror when you're concentrating?" Kaimon interjected as she casually fanned herself with her dark dōgi. "You look utterly terrifying."
"I do?" she replied nervously, relaxing the short bow's string to glance at the old corvette.
"The fact that you're asking me makes it even more frightening," the warrior continued as if Mikasa had not spoken. "It's almost as if you hide your true self all the time, so when you can't focus on concealing it it comes out all at once."
"So I assume that this one arrow is my only shot?" she asked the green-clad carrier.
"Aye."
"The opening shot should be the only shot if it's done correctly," Kaga nodded in agreement. "Feel free to take your time; an accurate arrow is the best arrow."
Relax, Mikasa, no pressure.
You won't fail Kaimon. You learned from the best, and skills such as these simply lie dormant, lying in wait for the right moment.
Carefully, she pulled back the string and took careful aim at the distant target, which Akagi's pilots had courteously moved closer to a range of about two hundred meters. She glanced at the target one final time before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
Kaimon, this is for everything you've taught me.
SCHWOOP!
The arrow flew high in the air, arcing to the point it seemed to kiss the sun before falling with a loud thud into the dummy.
"Phew," Mikasa breathed in relief as she saw the arrow's feathery shaft protruding from the dummy's chest, well within the bullseye.
"Great shot!"
"Wow! As expected of Mikasa-san, dess!"
"Not bad for being out of practice," Kaga gave her a genuine smile, "but I can do better."
SCHWOOP!
The pre-dreadnought did a double take as the battleship-turned-aircraft-carrier's volley pierced the target's very core: the dummy's heart.
"Did, did you just," she sputtered, but before she could get any further another arrow whistled through the air and cleaved Kaga's arrow neatly in two, again landing perfectly in the center of the target. Akagi merely giggled in response as she eased her yumi.
"So accurate…" Mikasa whispered in awe. "Are the three of you like this?"
"I can be!" Sōryū bellowed as she fired her arrow, watching it come to rest just a notch off-center. "The Kidō Būtai does not disappoint twice; our best is fueled by our resolve! Even when the United States finally defeated us in battle, Hiryū gave their carriers a hard time, crippling one of them!"
"…The Kidō Būtai…?"
"It's an old term describing our former battle formation during the War made from the First and Second Carrier Divisions. Hiryū and her half-sister Sōryū form the Second Carrier Division, while Akagi and I comprise the Navy's crack First Carrier Division," Kaga explained, the pride dripping into her voice. "Since then, we've vowed to atone for our mistakes by wiping the abyssals off the face of the earth. Marksmanship is our specialty. I know you may be afraid of the power of more modern aircraft, having seen their power during our disgraceful absence, but I promise you that you will be safe when we are nearby."
"Of course," she amended as the sound of footsteps and giggling emerged behind them, "I cannot confidently state the same for another certain carrier division," casting a thinly-veiled scornful expression at a trio of newcomers. The first two wore matching red skirts and dō armor, though the former had her grey hair in twin tails and wore an ash-black undercloth in comparison to her counterpart's free-falling white hair and matching top. Behind them trailed a familiar black-haired green carrier who gazed at the two women with a reverential expression. Only the twin-tailed carrier seemed to have taken notice of Kaga's insult.
"You calling us bird farms again, you old battleship of a carrier?" she demanded, a pinch of annoyance blending into her tone.
"No," Kaga replied innocently, pretending to polish her bow, "I was simply telling Mikasa that we weren't the carrier division to have our battle be dubbed a 'turkey shoot' by the enemy."
"I certainly hope you mentioned how a certain two divisions lost a battle in five minutes," Kaga's opponent coughed loudly.
"Then how about we settle this old fashioned way?" The former Tosa-class battleship offered, pulling an arrow from her quiver.
"I thought you'd never ask..." the twin-tailed carrier returned, producing her own bow. "Do you want to set the conditions or shall I?"
"Buckle up Mikasa," the black-haired green carrier whispered, giving the pre-dreadnought a pat on the shoulder, "you're about to see the two perform an amusing little ritual."
"Katsuragi, was it?" the battleship presumed.
The Unryū-class carrier bobbed her head in agreement. "I'm honored that you remember me in spite of my little outburst in the hospital," she looked down in embarrassment. "Feeling better? I confess I almost didn't recognize you with your fancy ball gown, gloves, black tights, and hat."
"A bit frosty for my liking, but otherwise fair weather. On the topic of my attire, it's a lovely eboshi, no?"
"You almost convinced me that you grew taller," Katsuragi smirked, "but then I realized how short you are when I had to look down."
"I'm glad that it's giving me some shred of dignity," Mikasa rolled her eyes, "unlike those two quarrelling over there. I take it that they have an old score that was never properly settled?"
"Zuikaku-senpai and Kaga-san were mortal enemies even when they were still both carriers serving in the IJN. Apparently it was so bad that the admiralty had to assign the two to different fleets when the first came back."
"Did Zuikaku look at Kaga the wrong way or something? What happened?"
"Dunno. It was a nasty spat between them though, whatever it was, but it's since simmered down into friendly banter. You see, there's a method to their madness. First, Zuikaku lets Kaga set the rules, but then she complains about them."
"Five hundred meters? Really?!"
"Any further and I fear you'll assassinate the Prime Minister."
"But the Diet convenes in the complete opposite direction, and dozens of kilometers away from here."
"Exactly."
"Grrrrrrrrrrrrr!"
"So, Zuikaku will pick the terms, which Kaga surprisingly accepts unconditionally."
"Single arrow, one thousand meters. Whoever hits the target is the winner."
"Understood."
"In theory it sounds like a solid plan, but in practice it's not."
"You ready you old battleship?"
"In the time it took for you two ask that question I could have fired off two arrows: one to answer your challenge and another to seal your mouth shut."
"Is that so…let's see how your words hold up!"
Kthunk. Kthunk.
"Zuikaku will always strike before Kaga, but Kaga will be the better markswoman."
"You're slow, Kaga," Zuikaku smirked triumphantly, "my arrow hit the bullseye before you could even release the bowstring."
"You're a bad shot, Zuikaku," Kaga smirked in reply, "my arrow hit sung true and hit home hard. As you said, five minutes can change anything, so why waste such precious time doing it twice when one volley would be enough?"
"Therefore," Katsuragi concluded, "they'll argue it for a little longer, then decide to save their breath for another time. Seeing as Zuikaku was the only one able to stand up to America's legendary aircraft carrier in repeated clashes, I like to think that she is the true winner, though," she reddened slightly and began mumbling something.
"Hm?"
"I said," Katsuragi mumbled once more.
"I can't understand you."
"Oh, Katsuragi's nee-san's number one fan," the white-haired carrier smiled sweetly. "I'm Shōkaku by the way, Zuikaku's sister. It's an honor to meet you."
"The honor is mine…"
"Ryūjō, Sōryū, Hiryū, Shōkaku, Zuikaku…"
"So, Mikasa-san," Kongō sniffed and aah'ed into her tea as the quintet paused to partake in the British pasttime, "are you starting to know your way about?"
"…Amagi the Unryū-class carrier, Unryū, Katsuragi…"
"Mikasa?" Kirishima asked uncertainly as the pre-dreadnought ignored her, continuing to list off names on her hand.
"…Akizuki, Terizuki, Hatsuzuki, Yūbari, Akashi-the-not-armored-cruiser…"
"MIKASA!"
"Hm? What? Oh, right," Mikasa's cheeks flushed slightly, "I should be spending time chatting with you four rather than jabbering off names."
"More than that," Haruna piped up with her signature sense of optimism, "don't be afraid to dig into the little sandwiches and snacks we've made for this occasion! It wouldn't be okay if Mikasa starved herself to death."
"Maybe Akashi did something wrong to my boilers, but I'm still not feeling that hungry. Perhaps it's because my firemen are away," she mused thoughtfully, scratching her chin.
"Well," Hiei retorted between bites, "you're not missing much. This is just a midday snack so it's okay for us to shovel them into our mouths like it's no tomorrow, but come lunchtime," she gave a violent shudder.
"It's a pity," Kirishima stated carefully, measuring her tone with every word, "that humans do not have the stomach capacity that we do. Sometimes it's nice have a little chat with the navy personnel, you know like sharing a bowl of ice cream or a rice ball, but the problem is that it always never ends up being one. For us it's always five. Or ten. Or twenty."
"It's even worse when the Iowa-class battleships or some other American battleship class come over," Hiei soured slightly. "They've almost perfected the science of eating by not eating; instead they become giant vacuum cleaners and suck the dining table dry. It's not because they lack proper etiquette or anything of that sort, but when you're an 800 foot long giantess forced to make do with a human-like stomach there's simply no humanly possible way you can savor every bite when doing so hardly dents your appetite."
"Don't forget the Yamato sisters," Kirishima added darkly, "there are no words to accurately describe the high-pitched screeching sound the logistics department makes whenever Yamato, Musashi, or Shinano give an embarrassed smile for emptying the mess's rice cooker. Which is the size of a small shipping container."
"Or both the Yamato and Iowa sisters together eating at the same time in the same base."
"Or the Yamato and Iowa sisters and Akagi and Kaga eating at the same time in the same base."
There was an ominous silence as the Kongō sisters digested that final image.
"Actually, I don't want to imagine that."
"Their appetites are that bad, eh?" Mikasa stared at them fascinatedly.
"The nine of them are well worth the hundreds of pounds of food required to keep them well-fed, but you could keep a mountain village full for a month with the meals they go through in a few days, assuming that they're on human meals and not bunker fuel like we are at the moment."
"Speaking of mealtimes, how about we finish up, dess? There's still plenty to do before lunchtime, and besides," Kongō whipped up a telegram a fairy had forwarded to the bridge, "Mikasa's crew will be returning for duty in a few hours to perform gunnery practice with us, and," she turned the memo over, "apparently Jukeini will be eating with us."
"What on earth has she been doing this entire time? I thought she would be accompanying us but that girl scarpered off somewhere."
Knock. Knock.
"Enter."
"You wanted to see me, Admiral?"
"One moment, Ernie," Goto pulled the telephone aside and whirled about. "Actually yes," the middle-aged man raised an eyebrow in surprise, "though I wasn't expecting you to pick up on that little cue I gave at breakfast until a little later in the day."
"Working in the JSDF's kanmusu division comes with its own merits, including recognizing when I am needed for duty."
"As expected of Hatakaze's valiant officer," an older man sitting beside the Japanese admiral chuckled in greeting, "I've heard of your bravery during the Toshima Incident. You made Shimada and the Navy proud that day. Vice-Admiral Mac Stephens of the United States Navy, present commander of the 7th Fleet Activities in Yokosuka," he extended a welcoming hand.
"The pleasure is mine sir," she replied in acceptance. "I take it that whatever you two wish to discuss about is of utmost importance?"
"It's of extreme importance," Stephens continued to smile, though his eyes informed her of the gravity of the situation, "and three of us wanted some input from you first as you are the most knowledgeable out of all of us on the matter."
"The three of us?"
"A potential admiral-to-be," Goto chimed in, again distracting himself from his phone call. "Though it appears that a derailment near Hikone means that he's running late."
"I think that's the first time I've ever seen a train run late in Japan …"
"It's definitely not a frequent mishap, Mac, though ever since the abyssals have scared people away from taking to the sea or even the air, it's definitely become a common event."
"Aye Goto. It's a damn shame that they got the jump on us again just when things were dying down…"
"A combination of overconfidence in the initial intel reports and the audacity in the attack are to blame. Who would have thought that the abyssals would have tried a land invasion again after their failed campaign in Northern China? There were rumors that Okinawa might be a target since we still have a stronghold of stubborn citizens making residence there, but to attack one of the most well-defended regions in Japan…"
"Don't forget that the supply losses were a result of the Prime Minister prioritizing the safety of the civilians over our immediate military strength, but that's not important right now." The American Vice-Admiral turned to the lieutenant. "Goto can fill you in on the exact details later, but to keep it brief the Seventh Fleet is in a bit of a bind right now. As the United States's presidential election lead to a political gridlock of the likes the country hasn't seen since 1876 (a state worsened by the recent assault on Yokosuka and Tokyo in spite of our presence), there's humongous bipartisan pressure from Congress for a demonstration of military might, not only to improve public opinion but to also give both sides some room to maneuver in preparation for the ultimate compromise. Such a demonstration can be found in the Yellow Sea, which in spite of being chock-full of abyssals is also the object of saber rattling by the DPRK. My orders are to make way to Busan and begin conducting exercises with the ROKN with all due haste."
"Beg pardon sir, but I'm simply a lowly lieutenant. The calculations and planning for such operation, it's—"
"The assembly of such a fleet to assist Vice-Admiral Stephens is not your job but mine," Goto stated firmly, returning the telephone to its place on his desk. "I already have a list of kanmusu in mind for the operation. It will mainly be a force of destroyers, for not only can they keep up the pace with the American Arleigh-Burkes and supercarrier, but they will also be the most versatile warships to respond to any abyssals the fleet might face. In spite of the benevolent gluttony our battleships and aircraft carriers put us through, a fleet carrier will also be deployed so that Stephens's fleet is not at the mercy of abyssal spiritual shenanigans. However, this also means that the fleet will be woefully underpowered in the event of surface action. It would be preferable if there were some larger-caliber guns that could be fielded for fire support while having say, the appetite of a cruiser."
Jukeini gave a start.
"You want to deploy Mikasa."
"Only if you believe that she is up to the task." The admiral looked away. "Resources will not be a concern; the admiralty's in the process of setting up coaling stations at all our bases for her. Her readiness on the other hand…it's quite the gamble. On one hand I believe that she has the fighting spirit for the job; on the other hand I'm not certain if she can accustom herself to World War II technology. I don't want to be the one to send her to her death. I'd rather be demoted and hanged than throw away lives so needlessly. So, Lieutenant Tōgō, can Mikasa do it?"
"Well…her crew is off running practice drills with the other kanmusu, and Kongō planned to conduct gunnery practice with her later this afternoon…so I can't really reply definitively yes or no until I see the results…"
"Then you have answered our question. We will be watching Mikasa's progress closely over the next few days. By the way, lieutenant," Goto cleared his throat, "Akashi wanted me to remind you to pick up the presents you asked her to stash in her workshop, or Yūbari's going to use them as experiment fodder."
"Faster! Harder!" a purplish-blue-haired girl chanted as her legs straddled some submerged object, handily diving into the water as it made impact with some concealed target.
"Is that normal for submarines?" Mikasa asked coolly, her poker expression concealing the sheer embarrassment radiating from her cheeks at the girl's remarks.
"Iku's the resident pervert," Nagato groaned in reply, rubbing her temples as she felt a migraine coming on. "Though usually she calms down when Taigei's around. As a submarine tender, she's their adopted mother, though even Taigei's presence isn't enough to completely deter Iku lewding about. Usually, we're forced to accept it as a 'perk of the job.'"
"Shooting out my best~!"
"Does she do anything constructive, in spite of her behavior?
"Oh yes, yes I do," the submarine grinned, giving a torpedo an affectionate stroke. "With these oxygen torpedoes o'mine I've penetrated many ships in my time, big ones too! Let me see…"she whipped out her right hand and began counting. "With my torpedoes I've made Wasp, O'Brien, North Carolina, and Vander? scream…"
"For crying out loud those are our allies now, Iku," Nagato sighed. "How about you describe your other duties you undertake now as a kanmusu?"
"Oh, you mean like the annual abyssal pin-up calendar~?"
"NO! The other duties!"
"Fine. Goya here," Iku dove back down and corralled her confused pink-haired friend, "and I usually work together to gather intel on the enemy, though that's not necessarily our crowning achievement. You see, the two of us do what we know best."
"And that's being lewd?" Mikasa retorted boredly.
"Close! We travel abroad, deep into the heart of abyssal territory, and sink their shipping. Our record's what, thirty transports sunk in one cruise?"
"Thirty-four transports, and the equivalent of 64,000 tonnes of human shipping with their supply ships."
"Yeah, see? We get dozens of them in one trip, and the best part is they're completely oblivious to our presence! In fact, we have a little name for this strategy…"
"Don't say the name, dechi," Goya groaned. "My body aches just thinking about it."
"Orel cruising! Get it? Orel? Oral?"
"Har har har."
"Iku, that's enough," Nagato said tiredly. "Get some food and rest, because in another hour you're going to be helping Mikasa and the Kongō sisters with gunnery practice." At that statement all the color drained from Iku's face.
"H-h-hey, I don't mind doing business with battleships, but five is a bit much…"
"You're not the target this time Iku," the towering battleship pinched her nose, "you're going to be monitoring their shell trajectories and reporting the results."
"Oh." The submarine's face brightened up considerably as she began looking at Mikasa up and down. "I look forward to playing with your twelve inch shells."
"Just a polite warning," the pre-dreadnought replied cheerfully, lifting up the skirt of her purple ball gown and pointed at her black tights, "I have submersible torpedo tubes and a ram."
"Well then…" Iku scratched her head, "I guess two really can play at that sort of game…and I guess battleship-on-submarine action really isn't my sort of thing…"
"I'm surprised you didn't erupt at her, Mikasa-san," Kongō muttered through the corners of her month as I-19 backpedaled into the ocean and disappeared from view.
"That's because she's almost as bad as Kaimon," the battleship murmured back. "Almost. Iku says innuendo to get a rise out of you; Kaimon is just casually perverted."