AN: Things are happening IRL. That's really the only excuse I have for taking as long as I did. Hoping to get another chapter of Moments up soon™ as well. That's it for this AN.
Enjoy.
Solace: A Commander's Tale
Chapter Sixteen: Discoveries
"I submit myself to your judgement."
Graham blinked at the snowy-haired carrier kneeling before him, her head bowed as though anticipating the executioner's axe to fall any moment. One side of her face was concealed by meticulously-applied bandages, and her left arm rested in a sling—mementos from the brutal engagement she had fought scarcely two days prior. As far as he knew, Kaga was supposed to be resting whilst repairs to her ship were completed. He glanced up at his Royal Maid chaperone for the day—Dido, in this instance, the first time she had been assigned to his person since their arrival—but the lilac-haired cruiser seemed as puzzled as he felt.
"And…" he begun, carefully, "why do you believe judgement is necessary?"
"My fleet is combat-ineffective for at least another few weeks," Kaga replied, her tone sharp but clear. Though a far cry from the bitter rage that rolled off her in waves when they had finally extricated her from the combat site, Graham sensed a not inconsiderable frustration from the foreign shipgirl. "My blunder has sharply reduced Azur Lane's operable fleet power by an intolerable amount. I take full responsibility for this disastrous result and shall accept whatever punishment you deem fit without complaint, Shikikan."
"I see," mused Graham, ignoring Dido's mounting concern as she looked upon the stricken Sakura carrier, once so imposing; so unearthly beautiful, now laid low by her perceived failure, the wounds to her ship manifesting upon her flesh in gruesome display. "What judgement," he asked, "do you believe you deserve, Kaga?
The foreign carrier twitched, and though her stony expression remained, Graham saw it chip for the briefest instant. She hadn't anticipated the question. Clearly, thought the young Commander of Azur Lane, he had some reading to do regarding the practises of the Royal Isles' distant ally.
"If that's too much," he said, changing tack, "then provide me an example: what would your nation do, were one of your own in my shoes right now? What would you do, were you in my place?"
Kaga was silent for a moment, before taking a breath.
"Officers who have disgraced themselves beyond all redemption have only one path to retain their honour," she said.
"What's that?" asked Graham, curious.
"They will commit seppuku," she stated, "or hara-kiri. The cutting of the stomach."
Graham felt his blood become ice. Surely, she couldn't mean what he thought she did, but Kaga wasn't finished yet.
"The disgraced will ritually disembowel himself, and a second man—what we call a kaishakunin—a second, usually a close friend, will then strike off his head."
Graham fought the urge not to blanch. Dido, however, held no such compunction, and seemed quite unable to contain her horror.
"That's…" murmured the maid, trailing off, unable to give voice to the thoughts no doubt swirling through her head.
"However," continued Kaga, "being kansen—shipgirls, in your tongue—we are deemed too valuable. Thus, such a route is closed to us."
Graham felt a wave of relief.
"And so… other options were considered."
And there went his relief.
"What kind of options?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice level.
"You are aware, of course, of the way damage to our ships seems to translate to physical harm on our bodies, Shikikan?"
"I think I'd have made a rather poor choice for this posting if I weren't," he managed to half-joke, though even to him, such an attempt at levity felt forced and hollow in the face of this morbidly serious topic.
"Then you are also aware that we heal in tandem with repair works."
"I am," he nodded.
"Including lost limbs?"
"Where is this going, Kaga?" asked Graham, though he had a sinking feeling in his gut that he already knew.
"In prior instances of abject failure, the offending shipgirl would present a limb to her commanding officer. They would… remove the limb, to symbolise the excision of dishonour. The pain and loss—however temporary—would remind us of both the duty we must uphold, and the cost of failure."
Graham heard Dido gasp. It was a suitable reaction, he thought, given he now had to work very hard so as not to display his own thoughts on the matter. He had never countenanced that such barbaric practices still existed in this modern age. The removal of a limb, even one that would grow back, was simply…
"Regretfully," Kaga said, glancing down at the arm that was still bound in a sling, "I cannot offer you my dominant hand, but my left should serve. I will not fail you again."
Graham sat for a time, thinking—long and deep—on the correct path here. Kaga felt she had failed bitterly, such was more than apparent, though Graham struggled to discern why she believed this to be the case. By all accounts, the Siren fleet that ambushed her fleet had, quite literally, appeared from thin air. While it wasn't unheard of for Sirens to appear without warning, they had never done so in the presence of a naval fleet, and theories on why this was ranged from the plausible to the absurd. Now, it seemed the eggheads would need to reconsider.
Graham would need to inform Admiral Mercer—and by extent, the rest of the Allied Nations—of this worrying development once he was finished here. But, before then, he would need to deal with Kaga…
"Tell me how, exactly, it is that you failed," he requested, steepling his fingers.
"I failed to anticipate our foe's alien cunning," answered Kaga. "I took their strength at face value, and it cost my fleet dearly. And when they sprung their trap, I foundered. I was…" she paused, her face scrunching up in distaste as she forced herself to spit the next word out like it physically pained her, "weak."
Graham inclined his head in vague acknowledgement, considering. "Tell me," he said, "how many of Fifth Fleet survived to make it back to port?"
"All, praise the Kami," breathed the fox-eared carrier, and Graham took a note of that expression, filing it away for later. "But our survival was made feasible by good fortune alone, not skill at arms or my ability to lead. A victory built on luck is no true victory at all."
Graham thought rather differently on that, but he didn't believe this was a time to debate combat philosophy.
"So," he said, "let's say that I accept your… offering. What exactly would that teach? What would you learn from it?"
"What I would learn, Shikikan, is that—"
"You recall what you stated in your report, yes?"
Kaga blinked, "I do, yes."
"Tell me, how many instances have we ever encountered of Sirens simply choosing to materialise next to a fleet?" he asked.
"…unless I am mistaken, this marks the first such occasion."
"You aren't. With that in mind, how could you have known you were being funnelled into an ambush?"
Kaga said nothing.
"Your fleetmates tell me you launched your planes in the extraordinarily adverse weather to provide what cover you could. Takao has informed me that this saved her life, as has California, Yat Sen, and Sims. All of them, including the rest of your fleetmates, agree that you did all you could to ensure the survival of your entire command."
"Barely," hissed the carrier.
"I'm not finished, Kaga," Graham continued, his tone sharpening a fraction. Kaga coloured and lowered her head in apology. "I'm aware that I'm approaching this… entire situation from a foreign angle, but if I'm reading this correctly, then you believe that you need to suffer—to be punished—for your perceived failure, is that correct?"
Kaga nodded, stiff and tight faced.
"Tell me what you felt, as we escorted your fleet from the area, once the two Siren fleets were sunk."
The white-haired fox was silent, and Graham read her reluctance to speak as clearly as he could see her more physical injuries.
"I could make it an order, Kaga," he stated. "Or I could simply tell you what I think I saw."
He heard a faint grinding of teeth, and then Kaga spoke.
"I felt… humiliated, Shikikan. Shamed. I have led fleets into glory against the enemy, yet here, when encountered with the unknown, I foundered. I failed. The wounds gouged upon my hull were as nothing before the burning indignity that still courses through me."
Her teeth were bared, her voice choked with vaguely suppressed emotion, and Graham even thought that he caught a glimpse of a tear forming in the corner of one sapphire eye. She meant every word, he surmised.
"Then it seems to me as though you have already been given the punishment you seek," he said. This wasn't an ideal solution, but hopefully it would at least keep her from dismembering herself. "When you next sortie out, and lead Fifth Fleet against the Sirens, you recall all the nasty little feelings they dredged out of you as a result of that ambush, and you consider: 'what else might they be capable of?' You will, as a wise woman so recently said to me, expect the unexpected."
Kaga was silent for a long moment. The indignant fury she had expressed shut behind a mask, with only her faintly lowered head an indication of the shame she still bore. Graham was starting to worry that his efforts had fallen on deaf ears, but then she stood. Cautious, he watched as the Sakura shipgirl inhaled a slow, deep breath, and then exhaled. Was it his imagination, or did she seem marginally more relaxed?
"I… accept your reasoning, Shikikan," she said, still sounding a little unsteady. "I shall meditate, heal, and renew my efforts, and I will not fail you again."
"I'm glad to hear that, Kaga," he said, offering the kitsune a tentative smile and a nod. "If there's nothing else, then you may consider yourself dismissed."
Kaga bowed in the traditional manner of her people, turned, and limped from his office. Once she was gone, Dido breathed a long sigh of relief.
"She's really quite intense."
"You are not wrong there," agreed Graham. "Would you mind fetching me a cup of tea, Dido? That entire debacle has me feeling a little out of sorts."
"Of course, Master!" beamed Dido, her prior uncomfortableness forgotten. "Whatever you desire!"
Graham suppressed the urge to grimace at her wording, and instead plastered on a pleased smile. More than even her younger sister, Dido seemed especially eager to please. It helped, of course, that she seemed not even an iota as accident-prone as poor Sirius, either. While not quite up to Sheffield's impeccable standard, the light cruiser was a more than adept maid, and her sheer exuberance at even the smallest command was strangely endearing. He hoped that no one had ever taken advantage of that particular trait of hers in the past.
Dido trotted over to a little dinner cart, upon which had been placed a teapot. Sheffield had brought it in just before Graham had begun seeing to the various, assorted paperwork that was endemic to any officer of significant rank. He expected it would be cold by now. Indeed, Dido frowned upon testing the temperature with her hand, and requested a brief leave in order to get a fresh pot, which he granted.
Finding himself suddenly alone with Dido's departure, Graham sighed, and got back to work, his mind soon numbing as he filed out reports, which would need to be telegraphed over to his superiors via Admiral Mercer. Deployment orders for patrols, detailed reports from said patrols, stockpiles of resources from Quartermaster Smith… who Graham realised he hadn't actually seen once since his arrival, unlike the ever bubbly Lieutenant Koizumi, who dipped her head into his office at least once or twice a day just to say hello. He wondered if any of the Union shipgirls had regular contact with the man.
The thought was immediately pushed aside as he realised he would need to send a request for more food supplies soon. While a shortage wouldn't come soon, he knew how long such requests could take to process during the nominal peacetime the world had enjoyed up until now. With the resurgence of Siren hostilities, however, Graham thought it best to be proactive. Hopefully, their special status among the allied nations would grant them privilege of sorts.
A knock at the door drew his grateful eye up from his desk. To his mild bemusement, he found Rodney standing in the entrance, accompanied by two others, one an impressively well-proportioned Eagle Union shipgirl with short, silver-hair, dressed in a navy-blue skirt and an equally blue collar which held up a backless, vaguely transparent, white camisole and long, nylon leggings. Most distinct, however, aside from her curiously purple eyes, were her hands, which seemed almost mechanical.
No, he realised, taking a closer look. They weren't almost mechanical; rather, they were. He had never seen anything like it before. He was aware of the developing field of prosthetic limb replacements, but this seemed far above and beyond anything he had heard of. Reserving his questions for the time being, he instead took in the sight of the third girl. This one, however, he recognised immediately as one of the contingent from Iris Libre who had greeted him on his arrival: Emile Bertin.
"Good day to you, Lord Commander," Rodney greeted with an elegant curtsey, a gesture swiftly mirrored by Emile Bertin. The short-haired Union shipgirl, however, seemed wholly unfamiliar with the act, and offered a stilted parody, though it was quite evident that she was only following suit because her two companions were doing it. Amusing as it was, Graham couldn't help but find it at least a little endearing that she had tried, even despite her lack of knowledge, and the little blush that spread across her face as she caught his eye was simply adorable.
"Rodney," he returned with a nod, "and Emile Bertin, unless I'm mistaken?"
"You are not, Commandant," she replied with a demure smile. "I'm pleased you remember."
"I like to think I'm fairly good at matching names to faces," he offered, and that was partly true. Mostly, however, he believed it helped that most shipgirls possessed so distinct an appearance that it was almost impossible to mistake them for one another, with only a handful of exceptions. He continued on as he fixed his gaze back upon the newcomer, "And who is this you've got with you?"
The girl's embarrassment over her perceived faux pas earlier faded almost immediately as she hopped up on the spot and raised her hand like a schoolgirl in the middle of class, "I'm Reno!" she chirped, a wide grin upon her face, "It's really, really cool to finally speak to you, sir!"
Graham found himself surprised by how swiftly the Union girl had bounced back, as well as the enthusiasm of her greeting. Bemused, he looked to Rodney and Emile for answers. The battleship, though, merely tittered politely behind one hand, while Emile Bertin wore the look of someone trying awfully hard not to giggle.
"It's… nice to meet you, too, Reno," he finally replied, finding himself not a little flattered at her starry-eyed look.
"We happened to bump into each other on our way here," said Rodney. "And when she learned of our destination, she wanted to tag along, and we could hardly say no to that cute little face of hers."
"H-hey, I'm not a kid or anything," Reno pouted up at the taller battleship.
"Says the girl who said she wanted to meet a real life hero," giggled Emile Bertin. Reno flushed an even deeper shade of red, causing the Iris cruiser to coo, "Oh, I'm sorry, Reno. I don't mean to tease, but you are just too cute! I almost wish our own destroyers could be as sweet as you are."
Graham found himself chuckling at the display, and decided to interject before Reno had a meltdown, "All right, all right. I think she gets the idea, now leave the poor thing be. Actually, I think I'd like to ask her a few things, like those curious gloves she's wearin—"
And no sooner had the words left his mouth than Reno was practically in his face, her prior embarrassment fleeing in face of the unmitigated delight that danced through her lavender eyes. Graham found himself not a little impressed at how easily she could discard unease for enthusiasm.
"You want to know about my gear, Commander?!" she squealed in undisguised glee. "I designed and built it all myself! Getting it to look just right was a problem, but once I figured out the power source, everything just fell into place. Of course, it's not completely like the ones Iron Man uses—I mean, his are all like 'fwooom' and 'pewww' and 'kkksshaaw'—and I've only managed to get it to light up, but I'll get there one day and it'll be—"
Graham swiftly found himself completely lost at Reno's increasingly rapid-fire pace, as well as the little gestures and poses she did when imitating a sound effect. He trained a blank look on Rodney and Emile Bertin, but the latter simply shrugged her shoulders, smiling bashfully, while Rodney simply elected to plaster on an unwavering mask of her typically seraphic countenance. Help or advice, it seemed, was in short supply here.
Still, after the tumult of combat, he supposed that listening to an excitable shipgirl babble on about her interests—comic books, of all things, at least in Reno's case—was a nice change of pace. He found himself smiling as he listened to Reno gush.
"—and I mean, if you really, really think about it, you're basically like a superhero, right? I mean, sure, you don't slug it out with the Siren ships directly—though that would be so cool!—but you're kind of like the last line of defence, right? Like, okay, not last line, because the other countries still have navies, too and—"
"Reno," tittered Emile Bertin, placing a gentle hand on the Union cruiser's shoulder, "I think he understands. Give the man some room to breathe."
Reno blinked at the Iris woman, before flushing as she realised she had been rambling. Sheepish, she turned her head away, hands clasped in front of her, fidgeting with her fingers like a schoolgirl sent to the Head Teacher's office.
Graham chuckled, "It's fine. Quite honestly, I'm finding her enthusiasm rather pleasant. It's always nice to know you girls are enjoying yourselves."
Though still red-faced, Reno's chagrin gave way somewhat to a quietly delighted little smile. He decided that, for all her meandering monologue, he quite liked Reno. In a sense, the Union cruiser reminded him of Javelin. Both were chatty, bubbly girls, and neither seemed as though anything ever much got them down. An idea grew in his head as he considered the foreign shipgirl; nothing particularly outstanding, or even necessary, were one to look at it objectively, but a gesture he thought Reno might appreciate.
"I can't honestly say that I know much about comic book heroes," he mused, "but as I recall, don't most of them have some sort of young helper?"
As he predicted, Reno latched onto the idea in a heartbeat, slamming her hands on his desk, such was her visible excitement, "A-a sidekick!" she squeaked. "Yeah! Yeah, yeah, they do, Commander! A-are you really saying—"
"I believe the position is open," he nodded, trying very hard to suppress a grin of his own. If only all the shipgirls under his command could be so easily motivated, he thought to himself. "And I don't see anyone else volunteering."
Reno's squeal reached a pitch Graham had never imagined a human voice could ever achieve. The silver-haired cruiser practically vibrated with excitement, and Rodney and Emile Bertin both took a cautious step away from the Union girl, who seemed torn on whether to laugh, or spin and jump for joy, or hug him.
Eventually, she decided on doing all those things, and Graham found himself almost tackled off his chair by the energetic Union girl. He was saved from a potential concussion only by the swift intervention of both Rodney and Emile Bertin, who plucked Reno away while also steadying his chair, preventing it from tipping both Graham and the Union girl onto the floor.
"This is the greatest day of my life!" Reno babbled, only barely intelligible, her mouth racing as quickly as her mind. "I-I need to get working on more gear. Do you think I could make myself a costume? Should I have a costume? I wonder if I could get it to light up…"
Emile Bertin tittered, and even Rodney exhaled gently, a soft look in her tender gaze as they set Reno down.
"I think that's enough, don't you?" said the Iris woman. "The Commandant seems quite overwhelmed with all this talk of heroes and costumes, non?"
"Quite so," agreed Rodney. "Why don't you calm down a bit, and come back another time, hm?"
Reno paused, chewed on her lip, and then nodded, appearing suitably chagrined, though shades of her prior glee shone through in her constant fidgeting.
"Sorry, everyone," she mumbled. "I, um… I didn't mean to get so worked up."
"Relax," said Graham, offering the short-haired cruiser a reassuring half-grin. "I'll always be on hand to lend an ear. Just, ah… maybe try and slow down a little next time, eh?"
The wide, beaming smile that Reno directed his way made Graham wish he could somehow bottle it. Emile Bertin even giggled and rubbed the slightly shorter girl's head.
"Yes, sir, Commander, sir!" chirped Reno. "I'll just, ah, get out of your hair for the time being. I'll be back, though. A-and maybe I'll bring some of my favourite comics around. I know you'll find something there that you'll like!"
"I look forward to it," he smiled, even as he silently hoped such a visit wouldn't take up too much time—they were on a war footing, after all.
Reno smiled again, before excusing herself as politely as she could. As soon as she was out of sight, Graham exhaled, feeling as though he'd been put through a marathon.
"Wonderful girl," hummed Rodney, "but I thought some of our destroyers could be exhausting to deal with."
"Oh, she was just adorable," gushed Emile Bertin. "Were she one of ours, I'd latch on and never let go."
"As interesting as all that was," Graham sighed, turning his attention on the two shipgirls still lingering in his office. "Is there something you two need?"
"Not me, no, Commandant," said Emile, dipping her head in his direction. "I simply encountered Mademoiselle Rodney on her way here and decided to check in and see if you were doing well."
Graham found himself curiously touched by the innocent response. Emile's bright, baby blue eyes betrayed not even a hint of ulterior motive; simply a desire to look in on her commanding officer and make sure he was all right.
Clearing his throat, he nodded, feigning an itch on his cheek to try and hide his blush, "Well, thank you for the consideration, Emile Bertin. I'm quite all right, as you can see."
"Oh, just Emile, if you don't mind, Commandant," said the cruiser.
"As you wish. Thank you again, Emile," he then turned to face Rodney, "And what about you, Rodney?"
"Oh, I had similar reasons to Emile Bertin," she answered with a beatific smile. "Though I also wanted to sate my curiosity."
"Regarding what?" asked Graham, wondering what might be on her mind. He had seen the silver-haired battleship precious few times back in the home isles, and spoken with her all of once before now. Even now, he wasn't entirely certain what he should make of her. Rodney certainly seemed to act the dignified, regal Royal lady, a notably sharp contrast to her pricklier older sister, Nelson. At the same time, however—and Graham could not for the life of him put his finger on it—it felt at times as though all her smiles and affability were a mask for something else. What exactly it was, he didn't know, and didn't believe he ever would.
"You are staring, Lord Commander," tittered Rodney. "Have I bewitched you, somehow?"
He blinked, and then shook his head, colouring as he realised that she was correct. Look at me, he thought wryly to himself, getting all lost in thought like this. Once Dido got back, he would take a break, he decided. A little walk, and maybe a chat with some of the other shipgirls on base might do him some good before he got back to the office.
"Sorry, Rodney, I was quite lost in thought for a moment there," he apologised, noting Emile Bertin pointedly looking away, though quite unable to conceal an amused snicker of her own. "Where were we?"
"I was about to ask you if you had seen Lady Hood recently."
Graham paused. If he were to answer honestly, then yes, he had indeed seen Hood; just this morning, in fact, before she and the rest of Izumo's fleet departed for their patrol of the seas surrounding Azur Lane. She had seemed… off, though. Despite her best efforts to put on her ever-regal poise, Graham liked to think he knew her well enough to know that something was bothering her greatly. Something she didn't want him knowing, for whatever reason that could be.
Was it a problem within her fleet? Some inability to click or get along? He dismissed the idea immediately. Hood would never compromise their combat capability by withholding such information, and neither—he believed—would Izumo. It had to be something personal; something she was keeping from her fleetmates…
…and him.
The idea that his battleship evidently felt she couldn't come to him with whatever was troubling her pained him. After all the time they had known one another, what on earth could be so difficult that she felt locking it up within herself was less harmful than just telling him? Were they still in the Royal Isles, he'd have had plenty of time to corner her and get a confession out of her. Much as such a tactic would have rankled, at least the odious secret—whatever it was—would have been out in the open. He had that much faith, at least.
Here, though, he had greater responsibilities. They were fighting a war, and he had been placed squarely at the forefront of the conflict everyone now knew was inevitable. Estimations from the Allied Nations suggested Siren attacks would intensify along coastal regions within two weeks at the most, and Graham wasn't naïve enough to think that either he or Hood would be at their best with this… whatever it was, digging in the back of their minds all the time. For better or worse, it had to come out, if only so they would be able to work out how to proceed.
Again, he wondered what it was that Hood considered so damnably embarrassing, or dire, that she felt the need to keep it from everyone.
"Commander, not that I'm complaining, but if you continue staring as you are, then you might give someone the wrong impression."
Graham blinked, and realised that he had lapsed into silence once again, with Rodney square in view. He sighed, "I'm sorry, Rodney. Again. I was—"
"Lost in thought? Yes, I think that was quite apparent. It's quite all right, though. We all do it from time to time."
He offered her a grateful smile and a nod of appreciation, "My thanks. To answer your question, however belatedly: I've seen her, yes, but we've not been able to speak properly in some days now. She's always been… busy."
Rodney offered a long hum in response, and gave a subtle nod of her head, as though she were confirming a suspicion of her own. He wondered at its significance but decided against prying in the end. He had quite enough on his plate without delving into Rodney's head as well.
"I see," she murmured, before curtseying politely, "I thank you for answering honestly, Lord Commander. It pleases me to see that you are otherwise in good spirits."
"Glad I could help," replied Graham, still a fraction dubious as to what had even transpired here. Had Rodney picked up on Hood's behaviour as well? "Is that all, then, from the both of you?"
"I am content, Lord Commander. Unless there was anything more from you, Emile?"
"No, no. Not at all," said the Iris cruiser, shaking her head, fixing both Rodney and Graham in turn with a bright smile. "By your leave, Commandant, I shall bid you adieu, and be on my way to meet up with Surcouf."
"Surcouf?" Graham cocked an eyebrow up at her.
"Her and Bremerton, as well as Chicago and her sister, Northampton," admitted the Iris woman. "We were to meet up at the pool to keep an eye on the destroyers." She paused, and then giggled, "She will be quite put out when she learns I was here, and that I wasn't able to coax you into joining us—Surcouf, that is. She brought a bathing suit from our homeland, and was speaking earlier of how she'd love to see your reaction to it."
"Is that so?" he mused, trying to keep his expression neutral. While he would hardly go so far as to say he wasn't able to deal with the fairer sex, he had precious little experience dealing with personalities as flirtatious as the devastatingly beautiful Surcouf. He wondered if it was simply that he matched poorly with the type, musing on his interactions with Chicago and Zara. He hoped they were the only ones under his command who possessed such temperaments, but at the same time, doubted he would be that lucky.
"Well," he sighed, "give them all my regards either way. All the same, if something should happen—"
"They know their duty, Commandant," said Emile, "as do we all. None of them will shirk."
"Glad to hear it," he smiled. "If that's all then, ladies, you may consider yourselves dismissed. I appreciate the two—the three of you," he corrected himself, recalling Reno, "for dropping in."
With one last polite exchange of farewells, the two shipgirls departed. As they did, Dido reappeared, pushing a cart with what he hoped was a fresh pot of tea, along with a clean cup and saucer, a small jug of milk, and a small china bowl filled with sugar cubes.
"Thank you, Dido," he said, offering the maid a grateful smile. The maid beamed in response, filling the cup before depositing a dash of milk and plopping a single sugar cube into the cup. Exactly the way he liked it. Taking the cup, he swirled it gently around, preferring the way such a simple exercise brought blended the different flavours when compared to stirring with a teaspoon. Once he was satisfied that the sugar cube had sufficiently dissolved, he took a sip, and nodded.
"Superb," he hummed. "Thank you again, Dido."
"It is my pleasure to be of use, Master," the light cruiser responded, barely suppressing her delighted quiver. One day, Graham thought to himself, he'd resolve to get to the root of why Dido displayed such a curious yearning to be useful. She was almost too eager to please, but it didn't seem to be because she desired preferential treatment over her fellow maids.
Curious, he thought. Most curious.
For now, though, he had a little more work to get through before he could enjoy an afternoon stroll. Sighing, he set his cup down, and once more tackled the unwavering stack of paperwork laid upon his desk.
Akashi lay on the dusty floor of her workshop, feeling more exhausted and irritated than she had ever felt in her life. Her bullin assistants were similarly weary, lying amongst themselves in a heap and muttering to themselves in their squeaky little language. Complaints, most likely, if the repair ship were to guess, but Akashi cared ultimately little for any gripes they might have had with their tyrannical, green-haired overseer.
Grumbling to herself, she sat herself up before casting one baleful eye onto the architect of her woes. Her portable rigging system, so tantalisingly close to completion and yet missing one crucial component, dangled in their air, suspended by a series of overhanging cables and held in place by dint of its being fastened to a simple steel framework to vaguely simulate the position it would occupy on a shipgirl. A whole week she had slaved nonstop on the machine, as equally determined to prove that snooty Kaga wrong as she was to continue pushing the boundaries of science and engineering when it came to kansen like her.
Yet still, it continued to sit idle, mocking her with its lifeless quietude. That it would work was not in doubt, at least to her own mind. The question, as it so often tended to be, was an issue of power. As long as it remained inert, the rigging was useless; to her, her countrywomen of Sakura, and now her foreign allies in this curious new alliance.
"It's not fair!" she whined in her native tongue, pounding her tiny hands against the ground in a tantrum, uncaring of how childish she might appear. "One simple component! No matter what I do, it's not enough!"
She ceased ranting, and groaned, letting her limbs flop to the ground once more, her ire dissipating as she cast one last despondent look at what was to be her magnum opus, the device that secured her name in the history books for all time.
And perhaps a fat, healthy heaping of royalties, too.
With a start, Akashi realised she was drooling, and wiped at the corner of her mouth. Defeating the Sirens and defending the homeland was well and good, but Akashi knew where her strengths lay, and they were most certainly not on the frontlines. As good a repair ship as she was, it was her inventive mind that she believed to be her greatest asset. And if she wanted to use that gift to earn herself a tidy little sum for when kansen like her could finally step down—whenever that might be—then where was the harm in that?
Frustration took root in her heart once more. In a surge of petulant anger, she lashed out with her leg and kicked at one of her workbenches. The angle was poor, and pain shot through her shin, drawing a yelp from the cat-eared repair ship. Something clattered onto the floor, raising such an awful clamour that Akashi shrieked in fright, her ears and tail standing on end. Her own scream in turn precipitated a chain of frightened squeaks from the bullins, who all surged to their feet at once, only to collide with one another and end up in a tangled mess of limbs.
Akashi recovered swiftly, realising almost as soon as she had registered the noise that it must have been either one of her toolboxes, or a case of various components and parts that had fallen to the ground, jolted by her outburst. Groaning, she forced herself up, dreading to think what damage the fall might have inflicted.
She paused, however, when she realised that instead of tools, there was a small pile of shining cubes gleaming in the dim light of her workshop.
Wisdom Cubes.
It clicked in an instant. Vaguely, having been preoccupied with trying to brainstorm a power source for her portable rigging, she recalled having been told by an Eagle Union kansen that they were leaving the Cubes retrieved from the handful of engagements with the Sirens thus far for her to store. She had never gotten around to it, stumped by her pet project.
Perhaps no longer, though, as and idea began to take hold, gestating until her natural-born curiosity all but compelled her to—
She bit her lip, wincing at the spike of pain. She couldn't. Wisdom Cubes were priceless as artifacts went. For her to make use of one simply to sate her own curiosity would see her in hot water with the base authority, and perhaps give Kaga—still in a fell mood from the ambush some days ago—all the ammunition she needed to give Akashi the boot. Sweat ran down her little head in rivulets as she imagined the enraged carrier looming over her; baleful blue fox fire licking hungrily at the air around her as if seeking to latch on so it might consume her in an unearthly conflagration.
She shook her head, terror-stricken at the mere thought. Reluctantly, her shoulders slumped, Akashi picked up the container and gingerly fed the glowing cubes back into their box. As she stood up to place them more securely onto the workbench, however, a different thought took hold.
Akashi's workshop was famously messy among her peers in the Sakura Empire. With that in mind, surely it wouldn't be so hard to imagine that she might have misplaced the wisdom cube container, mistaking it for one of her various toolboxes. Following that logic, surely it wouldn't be so out of the realm of possibility for her to have lashed out and struck one of the benches near her project in a childish fit, accidentally causing said container—which she surely assumed contained nothing more than a set of her vast collection of tools rather than priceless Wisdom Cubes—to tip over, spilling its contents, one of which might have accidentally brushed against the inbuilt port, for which the absent power supply had yet to be created.
Gingerly, Akashi sidled up to the bench directly adjacent to the frame which held the inactive rigging, the open container of cubes held in both sweaty, shivering hands of hers. Her bullin assistants watched her every step of the way, a faint hint of accusation in their uniformly identical eyes.
"Don't judge Akashi," she muttered under her breath. "This is all just a harmless accident. Science has advanced because of such accidents in the past, yes?"
Biting her lip again, albeit far more softly this time, she set the container up on the bench so that it was balanced precariously on the edge of the table. The slightest nudge would see it tip over once more. Satisfied that all was in place, Akashi double-checked to make sure only she and her bullins were present, and then pricked her ears to listen for anyone—human or kansen—who might be loitering nearby.
Satisfied they were alone, Akashi affected an innocent whistle as she gently bumped her hips against the bench. Gravity did the rest, and as she knew it would, the container once again tipped over, spilling its glimmering contents onto the floor.
"OhnolookatthattheyfellIamsuchaclumsycat," Akashi rattled, the words flying from her tongue so quickly they blurred together almost into one. In the instant the Cubes were airborne, suspended for a brief moment before clattering onto the ground, Akashi snatched one out of the air and rammed it home—into a small, square-shaped opening in the back of the rigging.
Click.
Akashi's heart soared. None of her other efforts had gotten even the faintest hint of a reaction, but as she saw the Cube light up, shining ever more brightly, she was convinced that she had finally cracked the code. It only made sense, now that she thought about it: kansen were themselves the product of the Wisdom Cubes. It was perfectly logical that to modify them in such a fashion as she was attempting required their use as well. As the cube shined ever brighter, Akashi began to laugh, relief, triumph, and delight blending to create a heady cocktail that swelled her pride to unprecedented heights.
"Yes, yes!" she cried in jubilation. "I've done it! Eureka! Take that, Kaga, you—"
She paused, realising that the shining given off by her inserting the cube into the power port was only getting brighter and brighter. Heat was beginning to build up, and Akashi took a nervous step back as the light began to sting like she was staring at the sun itself. The earth itself began to tremble, and she heard the bullins squeak and rush around in a panic.
"Ah…" mumbled the cat-eared shipgirl, too stunned to do much of anything else as the light engulfed her.
Akashi might have made a mistake…