The Battlefield Of Love

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Chapter One: Picking Up The Pieces
What is a man besides the sum of all his sins?

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"I do not recall," Gunsou said flatly. "I refer you to the record; Warrant Officer Takamori Miki was in Room 115 from 2100 to 2330 on April 17th in an encounter with Atago . He took no phone calls, no breaks except a bathroom break at approximately 2300."

"Approximately?" Special Investigator Hasegawa leaned forwards, peering over his glasses. He seemed particularly determined to get dirt on Miki as he scribbled a note. "Are you sure of this?"

"I've stated previously I was not in the room for the duration of the encounter. I heard the shower being turned on around that time, so it follows that-"

"Are there any other exits from Room 115?" Hasegawa asked.

Gunsou smiled grimly. "Special Investigator, there's only one door to the Room, and I was sitting besides it."

"Let me rephrase; are there any other exits from Room 115 that this committee is unaware of?" Hasegawa fixed Gunsou with a stony gaze.

Gunsou fought to betray no emotion or expression. "There are no other exits from Room 115 that I'm aware of," Gunsou said. Hasegawa glared coldly at Gunsou, but offered no rebuttal. Gunsou had stuck to the same story he had told yesterday. And the day before yesterday, and the day before that too.

After what felt like an eternity, Hasegawa nodded and finished his notes. "The committee thanks you for your time, Warrant Officer Honda Gunsou, this concludes today's session." He clicked the recorder off and stowed it in his pocket. "Shall we get a coffee?"

Gunsou nodded and rose from his seat. "Fine."

Gunsou might outrank Hasegawa, but he sure as hell had to watch his step. Hasegawa was from Naval Intelligence, and this man had been grilling him for two weeks on a daily basis now - asking him for clarification three times over, quizzing him on singular words, or claiming Gunsou said something completely the opposite of what Hasegawa had recorded on voice, transcription, and written testimony.

Naval Intelligence had taken over the old Training Headquarters, a low, squat building with a crumbling courtyard and weathered pathways. The old logistics office where Gunsou had just been interrogated in, had one dusty, open-air pantry besides it. Instant coffee steadily dripped into the paper cup from the aged, whining machine. Hasegawa handed Gunsou a cup of the artificial brew, which he took with barely concealed suspicion. Gunsou was sure Hasegawa would dig out that he had said the sky was pink and that the sun rose in the South, if he so much as gave thanks for the drink.

"Good weather today, eh," Hasegawa remarked, "No rain, just sea breeze. Isn't it relaxing?" He took a seat besides the coffee machine, enjoying the view of a grassy hill that the pantry area overlooked. There was one free chair besides him, but Gunsou remained standing as he sipped - the coffee had no sugar.

"It's a pleasant day, yes," Gunsou said. "Just like every other day."

"Relax, man! Have a seat. Geez, you're awfully stiff!" Hasegawa tore open three packets of sugar to stir into his coffee. The rest of Okinawa base was over the hill, a natural dampener for sounds of the hustle and bustle of shipgirl activity. Gunsou took the seat beside Hasegawa slowly, only trusting Hasegawa as far as he could throw him.

"Y'know, Honda… I've never gotten to ask you this. Off the record, why did you... Eh, just tell me something: Why did you start this sex dungeon of yours? Why keep such detailed records? I know, I know, you're giving this information as part of the deal, but what I mean is, why did it begin at all?"

Gunsou stared at him, pondering the question. "Why did I do it, sir?" Hasegawa took off his glasses to clean them on a napkin, but nodded. "Yeah. Your setup is impressive, and your operation is remarkably clean. I suspected you were a pimp, or knew someone who was, but your work history is squeaky clean. Your friends are respectable, your teachers in school were of the highest moral standing - to me, it doesn't make sense. You singlehandedly ran a prostitution ring, and-"

Gunsou raised a hand and glared at Hasegawa. "It's not prostitution, Hasegawa. It was never prostitution. I've never named a price for the men who requested my assistance. They paid me out of the kindness of their own heart."

"So many payments, you had to write them down. Honda: payments, gifts, if it's money, they're the same thing. And besides, these men and shipgirls... You bullied them, no? Big bed, nice lighting, everything came free, including the videos you took of them with the hidden cameras. And oh, you had so many cameras, indeed." Hasegawa smiled. It was wide and his lips were pressed thin, resembling toads in summer.

"Come on, you had to have something, some reason for this," Hasegawa persisted. "Did you not like someone? Doesn't seem so. That hardly narrows it down."

Gunsou huffed and sighed explosively. "I guess I liked watching them fuck," he said, "Love hotels aren't exactly next door. The men liked it, I liked watching the shipgirls, everybody's happy. It's nice to watch them have fun. Something like that."

"Just to watch them have fun," Hasegawa repeated. "That's your thing? You sure you weren't getting some action of your own?"

"I will neither confirm nor deny that."

"Clever kid, " Hasegawa chuckled deeply. "I like you. I think that's the only honest thing you've said all day."

Gunsou tossed the rest of the cup into the bin. "Thank you for the coffee."

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It was three in the afternoon when he returned to the main building in the base. Today's interrogation had forced Gunsou to skip lunch; with his stomach rumbling loudly, Gunsou headed up to the cafeteria for something better than cheap coffee and indented bread rolls. At least he could trust the cafeteria staff to not spike it with truth serum, or whatever. But when he reached the coffee stall, it was not just the usual grizzly Old Man Abe who was there, but also a blond-haired, blue-eyed maid. Her hair, braided into a tight and narrow tail, was so long it reached the hem of her knee-length skirt. And something too was different about the shop - besides the wall-mounted rack of pots and pans that Abe no longer used, a black assault rifle and its weapon rack was there, looking somewhat out of place.

"Oi, it's rude to stare, don'cha think?" Old Man Abe half-yelled as he shook his fist at Gunsou. "This girl here, she's my new assistant! Whaddya think? Looking good, yeah?"

"You're a T-Doll?" Gunsou finally spoke. "I've heard of your kind, but I've never seen one personally."

"Tch." The maid made a tiny sound of disgust.

"Yeah!" Old Man Abe yelled as he brought Gunsou his usual food and tea, "Don't be ordering her around. Only I get 'ta do that."

"Ah, I'm sorry. I'm Warrant Officer Honda Gunsou; nice to meet you." Gunsou introduced himself and bowed slightly. "Do you work here in the base? Or is this an assignment of sorts to us?"

"Guten Tag, Warrant Honda. You may address me as G36," she said. "Several of us have been assigned to Okinawa Base as part of a new arrangement with our employer, Griffin & Kryuger. Most of us provide security, others are here for guard duty on behalf of Naval Intelligence, and I am here to provide assistance in meal logistics and preparation."

G36 shot him a hateful glare as Gunsou glanced up from her chest. "Will that be all, sir?" She said, in a tone suggesting she would rather slap him.

"…Interesting. Thank you." Gunsou paid for his food and settled down. He was not the only one who was staring at G36; two or three other officers were also ogling her maid outfit, exchanging chuckles. From their looks and ranks, they were all young, fresh officers, definitely unmarried. The older officers, seated further away from the stall, were much more adept at concealing their interests, although Gunsou reckoned the topic was not far from their minds.

Gunsou's phone buzzed - a message from Miki.

Miki: Hey dude

Gunsou: Yeah?

Miki: Come to the officers mess later, we got girls

Gunsou: Dude. I'm under investigation

Miki: It's not that kind of party

Miki: 5pm, dinner and drinks. Trust me

Gunsou stowed his phone in his pocket and drained his teacup. "What the hell are you up to now, Miki?" He muttered under his breath. He checked the time - it was 3.45pm, plenty of time to head back, shower, and change out of his dusty clothes. It still smelled of the old Training Department.

An hour later, he had freshened up and pulled a fresh set of uniform from his shelf in his tiny office. As Gunsou pulled on a cotton shirt for warmth, the sight of his empty shelves made him sigh. Very few of his belongings had survived the acquisition by Hasegawa, save for the barest of needs: clothes, toiletries, boots, a handful of stationary, and the charger for his phone. Everything else had been slapped with the red 'Evidence' stickers and hauled away. The unpleasant memory made Gunsou grimace, so he slipped on his boots, hurriedly laced them up, and left.

The officers' mess was just a short walk from Gunsou's office, but he heard the party before he saw it - loud music beat a steady beat against his chest as he rounded a corner. And it wasn't just the music; what was with the buffet line, or the dummy targets in the parking lot? What kind of party was this?

"Oi! About time!" Miki yelled and waved. In one hand, he had a can of cheap cola; his other hand was around the waist of his girlfriend, Atago. "Hey Gunsou!"

"You called me out to socialise again?" Gunsou grumbled as Miki pushed the cola into his hands. Still, he accepted the hug from Miki, nodding politely at Atago as she blew him a flirty kiss. "Alright, who's anniversary are we celebrating? I'd wear something nice, but well, you know what's happened to my clothes."

Miki laughed it off and walked him to the mess' front door. "It's not just a celebration, and I know you need some fresh air after being picked apart by Hasegawa. Have a drink! Chill out! We got food and games!"

"G&K Welcoming Ceremony?" Gunsou read the noticeboard. "Umm, thanks then." Gunsou spotted the entrance to the mess bar, but Miki grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. "Don't go running to the bar right away, man! Some of the new arrivals are very good looking! Over there, see?"

Miki wasn't wrong - as the duo hung out and chatted with other officers and shipgirls, some new T-Dolls arrived - and they were clearly dressed for a grander occasion than this. Gunsou let out a low whistle as some Dolls in chest-baring dresses and fancy flowers strutted into the mess with high heels, stealing no small amount of attention from the shipgirls who had merely worn cleaner uniforms with light makeup. The event organiser, a youngish fellow Gunsou didn't know, proudly kicked off the event with a short speech, a ceremonial ribbon cutting... And then icebreaker games.

It was all very cutesy, carnival-style fun: Shipgirls and T-Dolls having a shooting competition, a non-alcoholic beer pong setup, and even a hula-hoop contest whose sole appeal was probably the shipgirls and T-Dolls shaking their asses for the delight of the officers watching them. As Gunsou queued up for a second round of the buffet line, however, something slowly sank in.

"Miki," he asked quietly, "Where's the rest of the gang? Philips, Zhao, or hell, you would have expected Goro to be around checking out these girls."

"Well, about that," Miki coughed and scanned the crowd. "They've resigned quietly. Hasegawa's made them disappear overnight."

"The hell?" Gunsou gaped. "We need some of these guys, why'd you let them go?"

"There's nothing I can do, dude. NavIntel wants heads on the chopping block, all you get to say is, "How many?" They're cleaning house, one department at a time. Haven't you been getting the roster change emails?

"I stopped reading them after Zhao got replaced by a deputy commander," Gunsou sighed and put back a spring roll into the buffet line. He wasn't hungry anymore. Dozens, if not hundreds of officers had visited his room, but many of them were merely innocent men looking for a few hours of fun. Had his investigation destroyed their lives at the stroke of a pen?

"Miki, am I safe?" he asked. "Will Haseg- I mean, NavIntel kick me out as well?"

Miki made a slashing motion with his hand. "Don't do anything stupid. Keep quiet, I'm handling things- Ah, hello Hasegawa! What brings you here?"

Gunsou's stomach turned as he saw Hasegawa and another young, fair-faced man in matching uniforms and badges. "Hey, Takamori," Hasegawa said, "We heard that there was free beer, and thought we'd come have a drink."

Miki laughed heartily. "Well, no one could say 'No' to free things, of course! And you are?"

"I'm Motoyasu. Motoyasu Kyohei." He shook Miki's hand as he introduced himself. "I'm the new Deputy Commander of the Gunnery Institute. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, Motoyasu. Ah, that means you'll be seeing Honda around!" Miki ushered Gunsou to the front. "He's the Ops & Training Officer from the Gunnery Institute as well."

"Nice to meet you," Gunsou smiled and shook his hand stiffly, and Motoyasu seemed to take that as an invitation to crush his hand. "What's your problem?" Gunsou wondered.

"Nice to meet you too, Honda." Motoyasu nodded. "Well, we'll see each other again soon, so we'll leave you to enjoy the evening." Hasegawa and Motoyasu nodded and left as goodbyes were exchanged.

"…This is bad." Gunsou muttered. "Fucking NavIntel just got one more string to pull on us."

"I know," Miki groaned. "Just suck it up. I'm doing everything I can, okay?"

"Sure..."

The need for a beer persuaded both men to head inside the air-conditioned mess to look for a free table to eat. While Miki got drinks for them, Gunsou poked at his food and mused about his future. These were all new people he would be working with. The extent to which he could build a good working relationship with them would depend on both how well he could go without the backing of blackmail anymore. Motoyasu. Equal ranks didn't mean equal power here, and Motoyasu being in the company of Hasegawa made it even worse.

He really should have made more friends properly, shouldn't he?

Some cheers were coming from the tables besides them. "Arm wrestle, arm wrestle!" He glanced over - a warrant officer he knew by face but not by name, was preparing to arm-wrestle a younger man. Veteran and youngling rolled up their sleeves, took a swig of beer for liquid courage - and off they went.

Gunsou watched with derision. Only one reason for them to arm-wrestle: for the gazes of the shipgirls around them. A few T-Dolls were there too, in their extravagant costumes: one tall woman in a very revealing black dress, a small, girly T-Doll with cat ears and glasses, and two more holding wine glasses and rifles besides them. Both of them were looking at the display of testosterone with identical expressions of mild amusement and disgust.

Gunsou looked closer. As the other T-Doll swept her dark red hair behind her ear, he was intrigued by her partner, who was wearing a navy blue dress that complimented her flowery headband. With her golden hair tied up behind her head, and pale green eyes surveying the crowd, Gunsou's first thought was that she was G36 from earlier - but he quickly spotted the differences. This T-Doll was taller, more beautiful... And she was looking directly at him.

Cheers filled the air, distracting Gunsou, as the older man demolished his youthful challenger with a decisive flex of his arm. "And that's how you do it! Drink up, kid!" Nakamura whooped as he grabbed his mug - the loser took two mugs as his penalty. The warrant officer - Nakamura, Gunsou finally remembered - glanced at the watching T-Dolls and wagged an eyebrow.

The atmosphere changed. People looked between Nakamura and the T-Doll he was eyeing. A challenge, or an invitation? "I've heard and seen a great deal about T-Dolls," Nakamura said, "Would either of you beautiful ladies care to entertain this old hand for once?"

Most of the T-Dolls glanced at each other, not wanting to damage a man's ego, but the T-Doll with dark red hair scoffed. "Hmph! You might regret that!"

"And I'm warning ya, I don't go easy on girls!" Nakamura chuckled with a glint in his eye.

"Do your best, Wa!" The T-Dolls around her cheered. The T-Doll they were calling 'Wa' swept her hair out of the way and placed her elbow on the table. "An elite weapon like me absolutely won't lose even if I wanted to! Come on!"

Miki returned with their drinks. "So, see someone you like?" He followed Gunsou's gaze to the next table. "Who are those?" Gunsou pointed at the T-Dolls assembled. "I know the guy challenging them is Nakamura from… I dunno, 23rd Division?"

"Yeah, that's him. The T-Doll he's wrestling is WA-2000. The others around her are DSR-50, IDW, Springfield, and that last one is probably... Why are you asking? Is one of them your type?"

"No." Gunsou said reflexively. "Just needed to know what I'm looking at. Where's Atago, anyway? Thought she was with you earlier."

Miki glanced at Gunsou as he sipped his beer. "Oh, she's with Takao. She said she's saving Takao, but really, it's more like she's saving the men staring at her before she scalps them or something. Ah, Nakamura's done for."

Nakamura was visibly straining to move WA-2000's hand even an inch. She looked uninterested, even bored. "Is this all that Okinawa Base has to offer? What a disappointment!"

WA-2000 flexed once and Nakamura instantly yielded, bending his arm over to touch his knuckles to the table. "Ow ow ow! I surrender! Surrender! Ahh.. That was a good match!" Nakamura chuckled nervously as he rubbed his hands and elbow.

"Jesus, they're strong," Miki grimaced. "Doll technology's come a long way, hasn't it?"

"Not really," Gunsou muttered, "Nakamura's not using his advantages to the fullest. He should have pulled back more, forced the T-Doll to fight with a disadvantage. And he should have picked someone else - like something that used to be an A-Doll, they're weaker and lighter-"

"Oi! You think I did a bad job? You come over here and walk your talk!" Nakamura overheard them and shook a beer at Gunsou menacingly. "Come on! Man up, show them what you're made of! You're not drunk enough!"

"I was kidding, I was kidding!" Gunsou protested, but Miki was already nudging him towards the table, laughing all the same. Nakamura yielded the chair to Gunsou, and he sat opposite WA-2000. "Um, hi," he said.

It seemed however, that WA-2000 had other plans. "I'm done. If all the men are like this, they're all hopeless!"

The resulting boos and exclamations from the crowd did nothing to check her ego. Wa spun around and placed her hands on Springfield's shoulders. "Springfield, you have this one. Maybe the odds will be in their favour... By say, a hundred to one?"

Springfield chuckled bashfully as she set down her glass. "Well, I guess it can't be helped. Don't mind if I do."

"Nice to meet you, then." Gunsou said. He coughed and stretched his hands as Springfield smoothed her skirt and sat down opposite him. "Do your best, Gunsou!" Miki cheered.

Gunsou sighed, and looked directly into her light green eyes. Springfield stared back into his, looking up and down. Was she sizing him up? Was she a man-eater like Taihou, or a village bicycle like Atago?

"-Wait, is this fair at all? I mean, hold on a second. What if their tolerance for drink is higher and they can't get drunk?" Gunsou looked around. Maybe we need to rethink this, or-" Gunsou stammered, but Nakamura slammed a full mug of beer before Gunsou. "C'mon, man! Don't pussy out of this! You lose, you drink. They lose, they drink!"

"Gentlemen, no need to quarrel over a simple matter!" Springfield smiled and gestured reassuringly. "I assure you, Miss Wa is a lot stronger than I am. But of course, my pride as an elite is on the line here. So if I win, Warrant Honda, I expect a forfeit from you."

'Oohs' echoed around the crowd. "She's confident!" someone snarked. Gunsou simply blinked at Springfield, pondering not just the risk of a forfeit, but also her casually addressing him. Those green eyes of Springfield's had been staring directly at him during her stakes-raising announcement, and not at his name tag.

She was watching him more than he was watching her. Was she also another arm of Hasegawa's?

"I'll accept something reasonable," Gunsou said evenly, "What do you suggest?" Springfield put a finger on her lips, considering for a moment. They looked so smooth and pink - had she put on lipstick?

"Something reasonable, you say? Perhaps, but I'll tell you after my victory." Springfield winked. All the T-Dolls giggled at what must have been an inside joke.

Gunsou shrugged, nodded, and clasped her slender hand in a velvet black glove. "On your mark," Nakamura counted down, "Three… Two… One… Go!"

Springfield went straight for the kill! Gunsou had to grab the edge of the table to avoid being flattened. His opponent grunted softly as she continued to flex, making their interlocked hands sway precariously towards the end of the table. If Gunsou had been a fraction of a second slower, she would have put him down in the blink of an eye.

But she wasn't finishing. As Gunsou struggled mightily to hang on, Springfield looked on calmly, completely unperturbed at Gunsou's frantic efforts to not lose. The sides of her lips curled slightly.

"Well, you're lasting longer than I thought you would," Springfield remarked, "I'll praise you for that, Warrant Honda."

Panting heavily as he held on for dear life, Gunsou glanced at Springfield, his mind buzzing with questions. Did she think he'd fold over instantly? Or was this a contrived test to assess him up close? Twisting their locked wrists slightly, Gunsou heaved, turning his face red from strain as he pulled her hand closer. His gaze wandered and froze as Springfield's pale green eyes locked gazes with his, her expression unreadable.

"Is this your best effort?" Springfield taunted, "I expected more of a person like you."

"I'm happy to disappoint," Gunsou chuckled darkly, "Thanks for giving face, though."

The table creaked ominously as Gunsou's resistance began to crumble. He sighed, knowing it would be over soon enough - but their hands didn't move in her favour.

Gunsou blinked. Springfield was dialling down her strength just as he was relaxing! "Let's fight fair and square," she nodded, seeing Gunsou's understanding in his surprised expression, " Don't give up! "

-A distant memory flickered to life in the back of his mind.

Gunsou tightened his grip on Springfield's hand and pushed - taking the T-Doll by surprise! Their wrists dropped precariously close to the surface of the table, making Springfield bend over and wince as she held on by the tiniest margin. Cheers and Miki's shouts of encouragement filled his ears, but Gunsou cleared his mind and focused on only one thing: not losing to a mere T-Doll for as long as he could.

"That's more like it," Springfield murmured approvingly, "Someone's finally trying!"

"You think you know me?" Gunsou said quietly, barely moving his lips. "You can't."

"Ufufu~ Only one way to find out, isn't it?" Springfield smiled. It should have been sinister, but Gunsou's heart skipped a beat for some reason.

WHAM! With a single flex, Springfield slammed Gunsou's hand into the table, shaking their mugs of beer! The crowd around them erupted in applause - some jeers from Nakamura's buddies, to add to the din - but most people seemed to be smiling at Gunsou. Miki clapped him on his back, and Gunsou himself rubbed his aching hand, still trembling from the massive exertion and his swift defeat. Springfield was swamped with congratulations from her fellow T-Dolls, of course, but soon enough she was looking expectantly at Gunsou.

"Well then, boy! Drink up!" Nakamura shook his head as he shoved a full mug at Gunsou. He accepted the mug with his left hand, shrugging as he downed the beer. As he finished the last swig and slammed the mug onto the table, soft fingers curled around his wrist.

"Now, a simple beer won't do. The forfeit I have in mind will be more suitable," Springfield smiled as she tugged Gunsou to his feet. "There's quite a few drinks I'd like to try out. Won't you show me?"

The finger pointed upwards at the mess' bar left no further questions for Gunsou to ask. Glancing at Miki, who flashed him a thumbs-up and mouthed "Go for it."

Gunsou sighed and got to his feet, gesturing towards the staircase. "After you, I guess."

"Thank you." Springfield smiled. All around her, the T-Dolls sniggered and scowled derisively at Gunsou as he followed Springfield to the bar upstairs.

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For a T-Doll, Springfield sure could drink . Two Piano Womans was the price of her forfeit, but she also downed a Gut Punch and a Fluffy Dream while Gunsou was sprawled on the countertop, cheek glued to sticky marble as alcohol burned his cheeks and his chest. From where he was lying on the counter, Gunsou had an unusually good view of Springfield - albeit oriented on its side - and the curvature of her chest, emphasised by her dress, held his gaze far longer than he was comfortable with.

"You won't be able to out-drink me, Mr Honda," Springfield chuckled. Her cheeks had the slightest tinge of blush on them, and her lips were tinted blue from the rest of her Fluffy Dream. "Many men have tried. Of course, not every T-Doll has the same tolerance for alcohol as I do."

"'Tis not about drinking games, Springfield," Gunsou sighed. "Maybe, maybe I just feel like getting hammered. Work has been really shitty lately."

Right on cue, Gunsou's phone buzzed. Without even bothering to check the display, Gunsou groggily dragged his phone out from his pocket, and clumsily swiped to reject the call. "Shut up, shut up…" he muttered.

"Do you wish to vent about something, Mr Honda?" Springfield asked politely. "It seems to me, you could use a listening ear or two."

"It's nothing," Gunsou said lamely. "It's… No, I don't hate work. Just the people. Most of them. You'll have to watch where you step, if you're working here."

Springfield raised an eyebrow as she waved at the bartender. "Tonic and lime, please. Have a lovely evening, Mr Honda," Springfield rose from her seat. "I'll take my leave."

A hand reached out and grasped her wrist.

"No," Gunsou said hoarsely, "Stay. I'm sorry, I could use a listening ear."

Springfield gave him a long, unreadable glance, but she tucked her skirt under her legs and sat besides Gunsou again. Dragging himself upright, Gunsou gratefully accepted the glass and took a sip to clear his mind.

"There's only two types of people who sign up for the Navy, honestly," Gunsou sighed. "The scholars, the officers, the ones with families whose service goes back generations. And then there's me. I'm a nobody, honestly. And like most nobodies, when we couldn't find work after university, into the Navy we went."

"A very humble story, I see," Springfield said. "I take it that the Navy pays you well?"

"Not even close," Gunsou muttered darkly. "You'll earn very little if you're not a commissioned officer. I managed to get by because Miki and I shared rooms and did everything together. We were best friends," Gunsou explained hastily as he caught a glance from Springfield. "Same class, same dorm. And same… Same partner."

"You liked him more than just a friend?" Springfield asked, her tone careful and measured. "I understand. The stigma, it must have been… Difficult."

Gunsou blinked. "Oh no, no. Not like that. We're close, but not that close. It's actually… We fell in love with the same girl. Things got… It's not very straightforward."

He picked his phone up, this time to show Springfield a picture. It didn't take long for him to scroll straight to the bottom - and there it was. Miki, Atago, and Gunsou, in full dress uniform, at their graduation parade. Atago was beaming, Miki and Gunsou were smiling… And both of them had a hand on Atago's hips. Her arms were draped around their shoulders, casually laying her fingers on their chests. It wasn't a mere congratulatory photo-taking. The gleam in Atago's eyes, the way both young men held her hips close to theirs, would lead anyone to assume they were more than just friends.

"...Oh," Springfield's eyes widened as she put two and two together. "I didn't… I wouldn't have guessed. That's an unusual relationship, don't you think?"

"More common than you can imagine," Gunsou smirked. "Listen: there are men here who wouldn't hesitate to pay for a shipgirl - it's almost like getting a drink. One boy, one shipgirl, all night long. You understand, right?"

"Why are you telling me this?" Springfield glanced at Gunsou. "Is this a warning, or a proposition?"

Gunsou mused for a second, and shook his head. "It's neither. Consider it advice. I've had some experience. There's a bunch of new people coming in, but if I were you, I'd keep my distance."

Springfield looked thoroughly disappointed, and yet she sighed, shrugged it off, and smiled at Gunsou. "Well, I suppose you're now aware of what life is like for Dolls. I appreciate the advice, Mr Honda."

"Just call me 'Gunsou'. I don't know about you, but it sure sounds a hell of a lot better than Honda-san all the time."

"Well then, Gunsou…" Springfield murmured, as though testing how his name felt on her lips, "I'll see you at work tomorrow. Thank you for the company."

Gunsou nodded. "Thanks for the drinks," he said, and long after Springfield had left the bar, he continued to gaze in her direction, replaying the moment when her dress swished through the air as she walked.

"Only two types of people in the world…" Gunsou muttered as he drained his glass. "Miyagi! How much is the bill?"

"Too damn much for your wallet," the middle-aged man with a permanent scowl sidled over to Gunsou. "Your girlfriend drinks a lot. Damn near cleaned out my Aldehyde stock. Thirty grand."

"Fuck me sideways," Gunsou chewed on his tongue. "Can I-"

"Don't do it," Miyagi warned. "They're checking laptops and thumb drives. I'll get the eyes if I so much as touch the wi-fi dongle."

"That bad, huh?" Gunsou winced. "Okay, so no pornos. Payday's in a week, I'll pay you first thing. Deal?"

"No cash, Gunsou," Miyagi warned. "Do this by the books. If they get so much as a hint that we're not squeaky clean…"

"I understand. Thanks, Miyagi."

It wasn't until after Gunsou had exited the bar, stepping through a crowded mess of drunken officers, that he realised Miyagi had referred to Springfield as his 'girlfriend'.

"I wish, man," Gunsou sighed, but smiled to himself. "After all that I've done, I don't think...It's never gonna happen."

to be continued: A Gaze That Invited Disaster

A/N: It's been awhile since I've written anything good, so it feels good to finally do up this story at last.

Smut stories are... Well, I have some, but they're not consistent characterisations. Might post them here, might not.