Midway had wanted to drive from Yokosuka to Tokyo on her own, that car of hers a flash of red that streaked down the highway going north. Being forward-deployed to the Sakura Empire's homeland had its perks, one of them being the relative freedom to explore the cityscapes north of Yokosuka.

The nightscape of Tokyo was always a fun drive, especially in the middle of winter. And given how Midway had a week's worth of shore leave before she was to return to her West Pacific tour of duty, she was free to take her own sweet time just cruising around the Shuto Expressway in that car of hers - a gleaming red Alfetta GTV6 that she'd picked up sometime ago during a tour of duty in the Mediterreanean. Perhaps she would run a couple of laps around the C1 loop, or even perform a high-speed run down that stretch of highway running the length of Tokyo Bay's coast into Yokohama and perhaps attempt to chase that fabled blue Fairlady Z that was rumored to haunt the straighter sections of said highway.

That decision could come later. Midway had all the time in the world after all.

The Alfetta sped along as the snow fell. With the highway unusually deserted, Midway wasn't one to deny the chance of going all out. She floored it most of the way at 190 klicks an hour. She didn't have to worry about police attention – most police cars in the Empire maxed out at 180 so they would never catch her, though 190 still somehow felt sluggish to her. Though that was more of an effect from time she'd spent in the cockpit back in Vietnam. KANSEN or human, once one went faster than the speed of sound, nothing else came close to that experience, even on the ground.

Though admittedly, being solo behind the wheel felt a bit lonely. Maybe it was because she's too used to flying in formation or with a backseater. Or maybe it was because of that sense of emptiness deep down that she'd grown used to over the years, which often seeped its way into her senses whenever Midway was alone, when her thoughts would wander back to a certain shipgirl who she hadn't seen in years since the day before she went for her second and final tour of duty in Vietnam.

A certain battleship, with hair and eyes as blue as the dried up forget-me-nots that Midway's had stashed away in the Alfetta's glove compartment – New Jersey, Midway's old flame. And the fact that a song that reminded her of New Jersey was blasting on the radio really was not helping matters either. Midway turned off the radio, opting to listen to the bassy rumbling howl of the Alfetta's V6 engine instead with her foot damn near planted to the floor.

There was no point in denying it, Midway did indeed miss her. Midway no longer thinks of that night when they parted ways for the first and last time at Miramar back in 1970. Rather, she thinks rather fondly of New Jersey every time her thoughts wandered back to '66 and that summer of '69 where that romance that started between them from that one night in Saigon had only intensified further.

But then flames that burned twice as hot often burned out twice as fast, as several of Midway's war buddies from 'Nam could attest to.

Midway wondered if New Jersey felt the same way. Was New Jersey thinking of her the same way she was now? Did New Jersey miss her the same way Midway did? Midway brushed the thought aside. There was no answer to that question nor would there ever be – Or so Midway thought.

Somehow as if fate or some higher being had read her thoughts, something caught Midway's attention. From the corner of her field of vision in the twilight, she had spotted a taxi, one of the near-ubiquitous lemon yellow ones that often graced the streets of Tokyo and Yokosuka. It was not the fact that the taxi itself was the only vehicle on the highway besides Midway's Alfetta, but its passenger in the backseat that caught her attention. A woman who somehow seemed so familiar with very familiar locks of cobalt blue. Midway's breath hitched at the sight, she felt as if her heart had stopped for a very second. She could have sworn said passenger had the eye colors to match but before she could get another closer look to determine the passenger's features fully, the taxi was already a blip in her mirrors. Midway doesn't turn to look back. Losing focus at this high speed would be quite a costly mistake, even for a KANSEN. Maybe it was a case of mistaken identity, a semi-pareidolia effect induced by all those thoughts of New Jersey. Or perhaps it was indeed… No. That was definitely mistaken identity. Right?

Midway shakes her head, brushing her thoughts aside. That had to be an impossibility. There was no way it was her. Right?

Midway tried to drive on, the Alfetta slowed to a more manageable 110 klicks an hour as her focus had shifted on just getting towards Tokyo by nightfall. But with each minute that passed, she'd noticed her heart seemed to be racing faster, and it was definitely not because of the speed-induced adrenaline rush. Something nagged at the back of her mind, compelling her to turn around and chase after that taxi, which was growing smaller and smaller as the sun set.

For what felt like the first time in her life, Midway hesitated. Half of her screamed at her to not be an idiot and keep driving on to Tokyo while the other half too screamed her to turn around and prove her suspicions.

That moment of indecision lasted for but a few seconds. Already Midway's heard a third voice in her head that gave her the same admonishment she's given many a pilot during her tenure as a Top Gun instructor back in Miramar: "Don't think. Just do!"

Which Midway did. She braked, slowing the Alfetta down before whipping it around in a handbrake turn – but perhaps she didn't slow down enough as she found herself caught in one hell of a spin. Midway's aviator instincts kicked in, fast as her reflexes were – Foot off the accelerator, slowly turn the wheel in the other direction. And as soon as she was back in control and driving straight, she had her foot to the floor again. The Alfetta's engine, strained against its mounts as the RPMs shot up, nearly hitting the redline, howled back in response.

Midway knew she had to take it easy. But not now. That could – no, had to wait as she rocketed back in the direction of Yokosuka.

She had a cab to catch after all.


The Alfetta sped along, a red comet in the falling snow. To Midway behind the wheel, it was like chasing MiGs in her Phantom in the skies over Vietnam except the target this time was a lemon-yellow cab, not a silver-green MiG. The Alfetta sped along at 200 klicks an hour. She had one eye on the temperature gauge – one bar higher than normal while the other focused on the road ahead.

Hang in there, don't blow up on me now.

Not a good sign but she had to keep rolling the dice. She was riding on her instincts from her days in the pilot's seat of her old Phantom. That third voice in her head was yelling again. It basically screamed at her for forgetting that she was in a car and not a fighter. Midway had closed in on the taxi – right as traffic started building up the closer she got to Yokosuka. Her reflexes, honed by years of combat experience and sharp as ever, allowed her to weave in between lines of cars and trucks as she's slowed to traffic speed.

Not even a few close calls, where the fenders of her Alfetta nearly missed scraping someone else's by as much as a few inches, made her flinch.

The streets were congested as Midway entered the main artery of the city. She found herself caught at a stoplight. Her target was already far ahead, having made it right before the lights flashed from green to yellow. Midway clenched her fingers on the wheel, having felt a wave of frustration hit as she watched her target drive off into the virtual sea of cars. It wouldn't do if she lost her temper right there and then, as was befitting of an officer and a KANSEN so she decided to wait until the stoplight turned green – which it did, seconds later. Right in the nick of time too as the needle of the temperature gauge had shot up by another bar.

And Midway had taken off, foot to the floor back in pursuit. She felt a selse of relief as she watched the temp needle drop. And somehow the whole thing felt extremely familiar. Like on a summer's night in 1966, halfway across the ocean in a little city named Saigon.

She had caught up to her target within minutes, latched on to its tail like she had done with MiGs over the jungle and cocky pilots over Miramar – until traffic got between her and said target as they passed through an intersection.

Midway found herself entering a turn too fast in the midst of her pursuit though her reflexes were much faster this time as she kicked her car into a drift, the heavy scent of burnt rubber left in her wake as she carried on the chase.

There were still several cars between her and the taxi as it pulled over. Midway followed suit from across the street, the temp needle already inching closer to the red zone. Pragmatism won over, as Midway shut off the Alfetta's engine, unwilling to push it even further than she already had.

Nothing more to do but wait from that point on and observe.

Several minutes passed. Midway did not see anyone get out. Had the passenger already disembarked when a stream of cars blocked her view? Or worse, had she somehow lost her actual target in all the traffic and followed a different taxi? No. The latter wasn't possible. The number plate was the same, she was sure. Which made the former possibility even more likely.

And then Midway spotted that person in a sea of people just a block down the street from where she had parked. There was no mistaking those locks of cobalt blue. It had to be her, right? And how did she move so fast?

Midway acted on reflex. She got out of her car then sprinted right after her quarry, somehow managing not to bump or knock over anyone in her path as she made a beeline straight for that blue-haired stranger. Already she felt an increasing sense of déjà vu with each step, which only seemed to get stronger the closer she got and the further the pursuit went on.

Midway was running. Almost as fast as she ran during emergency scrambles. Yet somehow that blue haired stranger always seemed to be literally more than two steps ahead. Had she caught on to Midway and was leading Midway on a chase just for thrills? Or was she really just that fast? Was this really who she thought it was? This all really felt like that one summer night in Saigon back in '66, except that this time, Midway was the pursuer, not the pursuee.

There was only one way to really find out.

The grey-white blocks of the city give way to rolling hills and groves of cherry trees, frosted over with white instead of the pink Midway's used to seeing when the sakura blossoms were in full bloom. The sun had set further by that point, with the sky's shades of pink and orange giving way to purple and dark blue, which gave the frosted landscape an even more ethereal glow. A sign above Midway's head read 'Tsukayama Park'. (And Midway was thankful she managed to pick up the ability to read and speak the Sakuran language from her forward deployment in the Sakuran homeland)

Again, Midway lost sight of her target for a brief moment in the seemingly endless sea of pedestrians. And said target somehow flash-stepped even further ahead. As if on cue though, the crowd seemed to have parted, which allowed Midway a straight route, the chase carried on down a path through the grove of cherry trees.

And then the stranger had stopped. Right at what Midway could presume to be an observation deck overlooking the cityscape. Right under a cherry tree.

Midway slowed her paces, her trepidation intensified even more as she got closer with the pounding of her heart, which beat almost as fast as her earlier driving, being the only thing she heard.

And the stranger turned around as they sensed their pursuer approach.

Midway held her breath as she stopped in her tracks. Yes. Her fears were assuaged, her suspicions confirmed. That was indeed her. There was no mistake after all. Midway definitely wasn't losing it. After so long. Too long, in fact. Half of Midway felt a sense of relief while the other half of her was apprehensive, feeling as if the entire encounter was a dream sequence of sorts.

The years had been much kinder to her than to Midway herself. New Jersey's every bit as radiant as she was that night in Saigon. A sharp contrast to the not-so-subtle effects of the rigors of duty on Midway's own features – haggard, weary, faint bags under her eyes and lines across her face that were quite glaring to anyone that looked close enough. Just one look at New Jersey alone made Midway feel as if her breath was taken away.

For the first time, Midway struggled to get her words out. What was she to say? Honest as she was with her feelings, every sentence that formed in her brain seemed to have scrambled by the time it reached her tongue, before she could say something. For the first time in ages, the Union Navy's longest serving carrier had lost all of her bravado.

New Jersey seemed to have sensed it too, being the first one to speak. There was that smile Midway missed seeing, though heavily tinged with melancholy.

"I knew it was you, Mid." New Jersey chuckles.

"I… had a feeling it was you. I wanted to see you again." Midway paused after. That trepidation had returned, boiling over with tinges of guilt. Yet the fact that New Jersey had addressed Midway by her name instead of rank or callsign, eased Midway's anxiety. Perhaps there was something that could be salvaged between them. Right?

"Me too. That's why I took a ride down here to Yokosuka. I wanted to look for you before I leave for WESTPAC."

Midway's heart nearly leapt out of her chest at that revelation. New Jersey stepped closer. Close enough for Midway to feel New Jersey's breath. With the revelation that New Jersey would be going to the West Pacific too, this had to be more than just a coincidence.

"But it looks like you found me first, huh?" New Jersey added. Oh how Midway just wanted to reach out and slip both arms around her.

"Yeah… It's been too long. I-I'm sorry, Jersey. For everything then. I shouldn't hav-"

Midway's words came out in a spurt but she had stopped mid-sentence. New Jersey had put a finger on her lips.

"Enough of that, now. It's time to let go, Mid. I've put that all behind me and so should you."

Midway nodded in acknowledgement. She drew in a breath after. She felt quite close to tearing up. "I can let go of the past but not you. Hell… I never was over you. Not even after '69."

"Me neither… And why would you let me go, honey?" There goes that melodic laugh Midway's also missed so much. "I've always been yours, no?"

Midway was at a literal loss for words at that point. No more need for words. Midway decided to take the direct approach to her reply to that.

New Jersey's caught by surprise as their lips meet.

She quickly reciprocated. She's slipped an arm around Midway. Both of them could feel it in their kiss – more than a decade of yearning, need, longing expressed in one brief burst.

New Jersey broke away first, suddenly breathless. Midway already had her in one hell of an embrace. Pools of blue stared back into gleaming green. And it was Midway's turn to smile. Still as bright as ever.

"You really took my breath away there for a moment, honey~ Feels just like the first time."

"On a summer night across the sea in '66."

Neither of them had to ask the other about the proverbial elephant in the room – Of course they both wanted to start over. And both carrier and battleship didn't have to say a thing to reaffirm that yes, both dearly wanted to go right back to where they started.

New Jersey recalled the words of Iowa, her oldest sister. If one really loved a spirit as unfettered as Midway, one had to set them free. If things were indeed meant to be, they would come back and Midway came back. And with Midway is where New Jersey wanted to be right at that very moment.

Midway found herself holding on to New Jersey's free hand, not wanting to let go at that very moment. No, Tokyo could wait. They could always make the trip up north later. New Jersey gave Midway's hand a squeeze. That look on her face practically begged Midway to stay. Midway conceded. She wanted to make the most out of their new beginning after all.

The next few hours flew past in a blur. Midway, through her fatigued and adrenaline-addled thoughts could barely recall how they managed to arrive at the doorstep of a minshuku but she wasn't one to complain. Her Alfetta was down for the count and there was no way either of them were willing to take a cab north to Tokyo at midnight.

Neither of them said a word. They didn't have to. Not even as New Jersey led Midway upstairs to the bedroom.

Midway didn't know how many more hours had passed after as she found herself staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

"Not sleeping, honey?" New Jersey's stirred too. She always just knew when Midway was up and about.

"I can't." Midway mumbles. "There's just so much in my head right now. I know this is real but half of me still thinks it's a dream."

A smirk crossed New Jersey's lips. She was always the stronger of the two, and Midway found that out yet again as New Jersey's got her pinned to the covers. A position not unfamiliar to Midway, yet always welcomed.

"Then why don't I prove it ain't a dream. I know you always love that kinda stuff~"

"Try me, hon'."


New Jersey being the first to fall asleep was the first to stir, right as the rays of the sun filtered in through the windows. Midway was still asleep. New Jersey notes just how peaceful she looked in her slumber, and then she catches sight of a little note on the side of her pillow.

Written in blue ink, a poem of sorts. The penmanship was somewhere between cursive and the hasty dashes of a doctor's scrawl yet every letter still remained legible. Midway for sure had scribbled this down right before she fell asleep.

I still fall for you like suns do for skies,

Cerulean, pouring in from your eyes.

Just a hollow moon that you colorized,

So powerful, I feel so small but so alive,

Like watching the Earth rise.

Just like Midway to be honest with her feelings, even in the form of writing. This was a side of Midway that New Jersey's sorely missed seeing. And New Jersey was sure she'd get to see it a lot more often.