"AAAAH!"

Zuikaku was jerked awake by a piercing scream. The crane sprang to her feet, standing on her heels, hand already grasping for her sword, before-

Oh. I don't have it anymore. They… took it? Why?

Ah.

The war's… over.

"Asashimo...Hamakaze..."

Suzutsuki rolled from side to side wildly next to the carrier, her hands clutched around her body.

"P-please, everyone… I t-t-tried… NO! DON'T COME HERE! PLEASE!"

The grey-haired destroyer arched her back under the blankets and her eyes shot wide open, her mouth gasping to convulsively draw in breath.

Zuikaku grabbed her friend by the shoulders, but the little ship twisted and struggled, her bloodshot, unseeing eyes darting left and right under the glow of the pale moon.

"No...no...no…let go of me!"

The carrier shook Suzutsuki back and forth. "Wake up, Suzu-tan… wake up, it's me…"

"Zuikaku-nee?"

"Yes, it's me." Zuikaku cradled Suzutsuki like a child, resting the diminutive ship's head on her shoulder.

"Zuikaku...I… I-!"

Suzutsuki didn't finish her sentence, burying her face in Zuikaku's neck.

Zuikaku stroked her friend's back. "Shhh… It's alright. You're safe now."

Suzutsuki's sobs split the quiet night, the only sound besides the rhythmic growling of cars below as the traffic lights flashed from green to red and back. They were muffled and tearful and charged with all the pain and sorrow and guilt and fear that had plagued the destroyer for the past nine years. Simply hearing them put a lump in the carrier's throat as she fought the sting in her own eyes.

Poor girl…

Even by their standards, Suzutsuki's career in the war was bloody and tragic. She had only been on one mission, the final doomed charge of Yamato. They were not told it was a suicide mission. They were not told that their rigging only contained enough oil for a one-way trip to Okinawa. They were not told that if all went well, their beloved Yamato-daisenpai would not be returning to shore, ever.

They had been routed by Eagle forces before they even got halfway to Okinawa, by a concentrated force of eight carriers and six battleships, led by one of the only two girls to have been promoted to the rank of Major within the Eagle KAN-SEN forces-Essex, the Grey Devil of the Ryukyus. The carrier had fought in almost every frontline campaign for the last two years of the war, and wasted no time in beginning her attack in what was definitely another routine extermination for her.

In less than five seconds, five of Suzutsuki's closest friends and training partners died horribly, their flesh riddled with gunfire, skin scorched to ash by bombs, and bodies torn apart like ragdolls by torpedoes from planes flying so fast they could barely be seen.. The Grey Devil turned her planes onto Suzutsuki next, but only succeeded in shattering one of her knees before Yamato fired a full volley at one of the battleships, drawing the ire of the Eagle Union. The crippled destroyer limped back to port but ran out of oil halfway as a final act of betrayal by her country, her half-drowned and hypothermic body fished out of the ocean by a patrol boat and locked into a cell at military HQ. She was released quietly after the war was over, but that had proven to have done more harm than good.

Peace-time never brought anything good to us, Zuikaku thought bitterly as Suzutsuki wept into her shoulder. Now I wonder why we fought so hard for a nation that abandoned us as soon as our use was no longer apparent.

Eventually Suzutsuki calmed down, great shuddering breaths rocking her frame as her crying gradually ceased.

"It's all right, it's alright…" Zuikaku repeated the words like a mantra as she rocked Suzutsuki back and forth.

If the kami do exist… then why? Why do this to her every other night for nine years? Why… haven't we suffered enough?

Eventually the little girl fell asleep, nestled in Zuikaku's arms.

She looks so much like Shoukaku when she's sleeping.

The way her mouth opened slightly as she breathed, the way her hands lightly curled into fists, the helpless look on her face as she clung to the larger KAN-SEN.

Zuikaku gently put Suzutsuki down, taking care not to jostle, and pulled the covers over her body.

The pale moon continued shining, it's clear light unsympathetic and cold like the laughter of a capricious god.

"Shoukaku-nee…"

The word caught in her throat, her vocal cords-once used to forming its shape everyday, now unused to its nuances. Too long had passed since she uttered the name of her sister, who now lay forever under the ocean, the name now alien and foreign to her lips.

It was like this every night. With the hustle and bustle of city life over, and little Suzutsuki tucked in safely, there was nothing obstructing Zuikaku from her ghosts.

"I'm sorry, nee-chan...I'm so, so, sorry…"

The last surviving carrier of the Sakura Empire who had seen and fought the war from beginning to end lay down and cried until she fell asleep, lulled into restless slumber by the memories of a bamboo flute singing a soft, slow lullaby.