Chapter Six
To those that knew me, it was never any secret that I detested war. More often than not, it was nothing but the machinations of ambitious, narrow-minded people who sought to build themselves a castle atop a foundation of death and suffering. The Sirens, however, were another matter altogether; they were the selfish, warmonger invaders who defiled our oceans and terrorized our citizens, and there was an inherent nobility to stand up in defence of the weak against an opponent as powerful and immense as them. That was likely why I was always envious of Mikasa and the older generations, who fought a war against an inhuman aggressor that would've brought our entire Empire to ruin. It was humanity against the Sirens, no moral greys or ambiguity about it. We were all united against a common foe.
Nowadays, though, even with the Sirens lingering as a constant threat, it felt as if everybody had their own agenda. Even I, when I served as flagship, had to make all of my decisions through the lens of 'what was best for the Sakura Empire', even if it came at the expense of someone else. Akagi always reassured me that this was simply 'how the world worked', as if it were some kind of game to her.
To that respect, it was no surprise then that there was a level of excitement and eagerness for a fresh confrontation with the Sirens. Nothing else could've prompted a call to action stations. It was an opportunity to break the monotony of our voyage, as well as inflict some much needed retribution against them for having brought Choshu here against her will.
My counterpart and I were still in the midst of a hasty change back into our clothes when Akagi arrived on the flight deck.
"What's the situation?" I asked, slipping on my still-damp robes.
"One of my air patrols spotted a small Siren vanguard near our current bearing; four ships, most likely light cruisers and destroyers."
"Have they spotted us?"
"No. In fact, I don't think we're their intended target." It was during Akagi's answer that I noticed her gaze was fixated on the horizon ahead.
"Four mass-produced Siren ships should not leave you looking so troubled," I remarked. In fact, four vessels wouldn't even get me out of bed on most days. Even the humblest of our fleet's destroyers could handle numbers like those, and our little convoy consisted of some of our Empire's mightiest vessels. For Akagi to have sounded an alarm meant that something was about to complicate our lives.
"There's wreckage close to their position, and one of the Siren vessels appears to be damaged already."
"That is… curious." A rather lacklustre response on my part, but it was the best answer I could muster when struck by both worry and uncertainty.
"Why's that?" Mutsu interjected. "Wouldn't a damaged Siren ship be a good thing?"
"Wreckage would suggest a conventional ship was their target," Choshu answered far faster than I could, clearly having reached the same conclusion. "Normally a human vessel wouldn't last a minute under sustained Siren attack, let alone be able to inflict serious damage in retaliation. At least, that's how it was in my world."
"Indeed. It could represent a change in Siren tactics," I said while nodding in agreement. A normal Siren attack was swift and brutal in its efficiency, often ending before the victims ever got a chance to fight back, let alone have any success. "For a human to inflict even meaningful damage to a Siren vessel would be… curious, at the very least. We should take care to—"
I was about to say something to the effect of exercising caution and analyzing the situation before we rushed in, but Choshu decided that patience was a virtue better left to other kansen. She had already sprinted off to the far end of the flight deck before I realized she was gone.
"Choshu, wait!" I called out to her.
"No time, there might still be survivors!" she yelled back. With no regard for even a basic plan, she leapt overboard, summoning her rigging before she hit the ocean. While I wanted to chastise her haste, she did make a good point. Siren attacks, along with brutal efficiency, were often very thorough, so the thought of 'survivors' often served as little more than a formality. This time, however, we might actually have a chance to find people, but it was likely a window that wouldn't stay open for long.
Thus, I snapped to issuing out the orders. "Akagi, follow behind us with your vessel and be ready for passengers. Send out your planes in a search formation and radio us the locations. Choshu and I will engage the Siren force; Mutsu will take up the rear and focus on finding survivors."
A new mission instilled an even greater vigour in me, and I rushed off much like Choshu had just a moment earlier. I probably should've waited for some input from Mutsu or Akagi, but the plan was simple enough that it shouldn't be required. Thankfully, Choshu didn't just race off on her own, and I was able to catch up with her so that we could proceed towards our objective at full together.
"Did the Empire know of any ships traveling in this sector?" Choshu asked.
"No. These might belong to one of the Royal Navy's colonies, or perhaps the Eagle Union." Even then, it was still strange to have no prior knowledge of foreign military ships traveling so close to our waters. We made previous offers to assist in convoy escorts to the Azur Lane since the formation of our alliance, so for them to have made no request or even inform us was… curious. There were a lot of possibilities, though, and most of which were perfectly innocent reasons, so I tried to avoid imagining the worst. I could always consult with Akagi if I needed a more cynical analysis.
"Continue on your present bearing, and you should make visual contact within the next ten to fifteen minutes," Akagi advised us over the radio. "Nagato, if you want, I could send my little ones on ahead and soften them up for you."
"Negative. If there are survivors in the water, stray bombs and gunfire could cause further casualties," I answered.
"That applies to us as well," Choshu reminded me. "We're going to have to get in real close if we want to ensure we don't miss a single shot."
It was a calculated risk, to be sure, but a handful of Siren vessels were still of little threat to us, even if we gave them the opportunity to have the first few salvos for free. "What's the matter, Choshu? Scared of getting your paint scratched?"
"I bet I can sink more of their numbers than you," she countered, flashing a defiant grin.
"Do try to remember that our objective is a swift defeat of the enemy and the safe rescue of any survivors, not to make a game of war," I replied with the due diligence of a professional leader, and also because the radio lines were still open. Once I closed the channel, I smirked back to her. "But your challenge is accepted. I will show you the true power of a Big Seven."
True, it was a bit childish to engage in such trivial pursuits in the face of life-or-death matters, but if we were going to be fated to fight then we may as well find ways to enjoy it, if even just a little bit. We powered on full speed ahead towards our objective. The ocean was calm and the weather clear, so there was little chance we'd be able to sneak up on the Siren vessels. Every minute that passed just heightened the anticipation in the air; it would only be a matter of time before the relative calm we found ourselves in would be shattered under a hail of gunfire. I just prayed that we weren't too late to find any survivors.
Soon, the unmistakable silhouettes of Siren vessels came into view. The towering monoliths of steel and malevolence were easy to spot against the daylight backdrop. Even from a distance, one could feel a dark, ominous aura radiating from them, like silent, soulless predators stalking from afar. I could identify four ships: two light cruisers and a pair of destroyer escorts, one of which billowed thick clouds of smoke and had a subtle list to the port side. That was not the result of a lucky stray round; something had hit that vessel, and hard.
"Enemy ships are adjusting their bearings," Akagi warned us. "I do believe they've spotted you."
Confirmation came only moments later with a loud crack and a plume of gunsmoke in the distance. The shells hurtled towards us, screaming past us like freight trains from hell before they crashed into the ocean several meters behind us. Even as a near miss, the eruption of water and the shockwave shook us to our cores, prompting us to start evasive manoeuvres. More shots soon followed, crashing into the ocean around us in a thunderous fusillade.
"Can I shoot back now?" Choshu shouted, just barely audible over all of the incoming fire.
"No! Not until we're right on top of them!"
On any other day I would've started firing, and probably could've ended the fight before they even had a chance to zero in their salvos, but it also would've meant peppering the entire area with shells. Nothing within a quarter-kilometer of any of the ships would survive in such a scenario. I could see the frustration in my cohort's expression, though it had less to do with the risk to ourselves and more to do with her rising bloodlust.
More shots poured in, and as we drew in closer, so too did the accuracy of their fire. I soon found myself getting rattled by the near misses. A flicker of movement caught my eye as I spotted an incoming shell that was unlikely to miss me. I swung my rigging over, bringing the brunt of my armour up front just in time. A shower of sparks and metal shards erupted as the shell shattered against the armour of my turrets, ultimately proving to be little more than a distraction than a real threat.
Soon, we were close enough that even the smaller batteries began to open fire on us. The air was filled with searing hot shells, and the ensuing cacophony of splashes and pangs drowned out even the best attempts at communicating. But Choshu took this as a clear indication that she could finally go on the offensive. I thought she would've returned fire, but instead she drew her sword and rotated all of her guns to the rearward arc. Despite having seen her prowess before, I was still surprised when her guns fired and she launched into the air like some kind of rocket-powered ship. Her furious battlecry was drowned out by all of the gunfire, but I imagined that if the Siren vessels could feel fear, they would've known it then.
She landed on the bow of the nearest destroyer, plunging her sword deep into the deck plating. To a ship even the size of a destroyer, a sword should've felt like a pin prick, but there was a flash of acerbic light from her blade as she sliced forward, which tore open a fissure down the length of the vessel in a cataclysm of lightning and fire. Secondary explosions rippled through the ship, reducing it to little more than a burning husk of broken steel.
I had to admit, her display of strength was quite impressive.
There was little time to gawk and admire the pyrotechnics, however, as there were still three remaining hostiles. Choshu's aggression drew most of their fire, so I took the opportunity to sail more laterally in order to assail them from the flank. Point-blank range with the broad side of a cruiser was an impossible target to miss, but even then I still wanted to minimize any potential collateral damage. I took careful aim with my starboard turrets and fired a salvo right into the heart of the ship's citadel. Despite my restraint, the resultant explosions as my forty-one centimetre rounds ripped through the ship's core almost cracked the vessel in twain. Smoke and fire poured from the massive holes left behind in the ship, but were soon smothered by the in-rush of sea water as it quickly slipped beneath the waves.
As I readied to turn my firepower towards the next target, a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. It stood out as it was neither that of a ship nor a shell, but something lighter… something fluttering in the ocean breeze. Could it have been a person? A Siren? I swung around to locate the source, but all I could find were calm seas and the occasional bits of flotsam.
"How strange," I muttered under my breath. Since Choshu was merrily blasting the remaining ships with her cannons, it couldn't have been her, so I had no choice but to conclude that I had just imagined things.
Not that I had too much time to contemplate the possibilities, as my momentary distraction left my stern an inviting target, and the realities of battle gave me a harsh reminder in the form of a shot to the back. It hit my rigging's superstructure, so while painful, it proved to be little more than a nuisance. In fact, it wasn't even the most aggravating part; that was reserved for when I swung my guns around to retaliate, only for several shots from Choshu's main battery to punch holes through it, resulting in a massive detonation that sent debris skyward in a colossal plume of smoke and water.
"I do believe that is three points to me, and only one to you," Choshu announced with a smug, victorious grin plastered across her face.
"So it would seem," I conceded. "That was… brief. Is the area secure?"
"Well, I'm not seeing any sign of further hostilities," she answered after a quick survey of our surroundings. "It was only four ships. Were it not for the possibility of survivors, I would've considered the rapid redeployment of three battleships to be a waste of fuel and munitions."
"Speaking of which," I said as I pointed off to the horizon. A pair of large, bright orbs were launching skywards in plumes of crimson smoke. "Those must be from the survivors." They must have seen the engagement from a distance and now, with the Sirens gone, felt safe enough to launch flares to mark their locations. "Mutsu," I radioed in, "we've spotted rescue flares. Double back to Akagi and get some lifeboats."
As there were two flares, Choshu and I split up to cover more ground. Without the Sirens as a distraction, we were able to spot the telltale signs of the earlier carnage: the dark shimmer of oil spreading across the ocean, crates and bits of personal effects floating on the waves, and the distant echoes of people calling out for help. The voices, naturally, caught my attention, and I was soon able to find the source in the form of a lifeboat that was packed to capacity with tired, but relieved sailors. They were all clapping and cheering as I sailed closer, which was far more of a reception than I had anticipated. Judging by their uniforms, as tattered and oil-stained as they were, these men were from the Royal Navy.
"Little lassie," a large, bearded sailor called out in thick-accented English that I could just barely understand. "If you ain't the most beautiful sight I did ever laid my weary eyes upon!"
"I...wh—um, t-thank you?" I stammered back, caught off-guard by the man's rather exuberant greeting. I knew that his words were merely a product of feeling relief for being rescued, but I soon found myself thinking back to Akagi's warnings about Westerners, and the men in particular. As ill-founded anxieties flooded my mind, I had to steel myself in order to focus on the mission. "My colleagues and a ship will be here momentarily. Is anybody here injured?"
"Ach, don't worry about us," the bearded sailor replied. "You need to find the skipper! Crazy bastard ordered us all to abandon ship, and then he charged off and rammed the damn Sirens with it!"
"He… rammed the Sirens?" I repeated. Though I knew something extreme had to have occurred for a human to damage a Siren vessel, but for one to have rammed it? It seemed implausible at first, but I had to remind myself that, as a kansen, it was easy to forget that humans were capable of such daring as well. If what the sailor said was true, then I owed it to everyone to rescue such an individual. "Where did the crash occur?"
"It happened over that way, lassie." The sailor directed me northwards where the oil spill appeared to be at its worst. It was a good thing we had been careful with our shots earlier, or otherwise this whole stretch of ocean could've been left a sea of fire instead.
"Very well. Help will be here soon, but I promise you, I shall find and return you your 'skipper,'" I reassured the crew. I sped off in the given direction, silently praying that I would find the man alive. "Akagi," I said after I switched back to the radio, "correct me if I am wrong, but 'skipper' means the ship's captain, right?"
"That's correct," she replied. "It's a bit more informal, though; he must hold a great deal of respect from the crew for them to use it. Is everything okay? Do you need to brush up on your English?"
"My English is fine. Just sometimes the idioms can be confusing," I insisted.
While I had plenty of experience speaking the language, high-level diplomatic talks didn't use colloquialisms to the same extent that the common man would. I knew it would be something I would have to get used to, along with their peculiar notions of familiarity. I could tell they spoke of their captain with the utmost respect, but to call him a 'crazy bastard' in front of fellow crew members? No sane sailor in the Sakura Empire would've dared that. I couldn't even imagine a command hierarchy functioning with such a loose adherence to protocol and etiquette.
"Hello? Is anybody out here?" I shouted as I began my search of the area.
It was a long shot, yes, but I saw no harm in bettering my chances. Normally finding a person floating in a calm sea was simple, but the sunken vessel had left everything coated in oil, so it was more like staring into the void than anything. In fact, it was by nothing more than sheer luck that, as I was sailing around in a general search pattern, I almost tripped over something. Sure enough, there he was, floating right at my feet. He looked to be unconscious, kept afloat solely by his life jacket, and covered in oil. It actually took me a moment of checking before I found something with the gold stripes that clearly signified his position as an officer.
"Sir? Sir, can you hear me?" I leaned down over him and gently slapped his cheeks to try and rouse him. "If you can, please open your eyes."
"Mm... wha…" The man murmured and groaned, and only just managed to open his eyes. A dazed, half-lidded stare greeted me, like Akashi the morning after she got into the catnip. "Who… no… can't… shouldn't… no, no, no…"
In his concussed state, he tried to shake me loose, but even slicked in oil that was never going to work. The officer was barely conscious, if one could even consider him such. I doubt he could even recognize who or what I was.
"Calm down, sir," I tried to reassure him. His squirming was little more than an annoyance, but it was still better if I could calm him down before he did something crazy like slip from his life jacket. "My name is Nagato, from the Sakura Empire. I will take you back to your comrades, and—"
"No… can't…" he mumbled back. He tried to push me away, but all he accomplished was smearing some oil on my leg. "No… unmentionables…"
"What? Unmentionables? Please, sir, stop struggling," I said as I took a firmer grip to hold him still. "You have been injured—you are not thinking clearly. So please stop."
"C-can't… un… unmentionables…"
Somehow, he managed to muster up an even more vigorous resistance. It was still futile since I had a kansen's strength, but he was leaving oily handprints all over my arms and clothing.
"Why do you keep saying that? How can something be unmentionable if you keep mentioning it?"
Luckily for my confusion, I had left my radio line open so I wasn't talking just to myself. For every other part of me, though, what Akagi interjected with epitomized the notion of 'ignorance is bliss.'
"I do believe for Westerners, the term 'unmentionables' is a euphemism for a person's undergarments," she informed me. "I know the battlefield can be a hectic and volatile place, but I do hope you're staying mindful about how you're presenting yourself."
"Under... garments?" The words left my lips all on their own as a sense of overwhelming dread descended upon me. Indeed, in all the excitement leftover from the battle, it didn't even occur to me that I stood overtop of a man whose head rested at roughly the same level as my ankles. Even with a half-lidded gaze, he had a complete and unobstructed view straight up my keel.
A wiser, more level-headed kansen would've acknowledged the awkward and revealing position, corrected it, and then moved on with their mission as if nothing had happened. Battles were chaotic places, after all, and vanity often fell far down the chain of priorities when it came to survival, and some of the destroyers regularly sortied in a level of attire that I would consider to be dangerously exposed. In that moment, however, my mind could only recall all of the warnings that Akagi had given me earlier about Western men. The very thought of this man and his corrupt, perverted mind defiling my being with his wandering gaze filled me with terror. Even in a concussed state he could probably undress me with his eyes, and do unspeakable things in the foul pits of his imagination. I was the Sacred Protector of the Empire: to be defiled by a man's salacious gaze, a foreigner no less, would steal away my divinity and invite the heaven's disfavour upon our lands. As my face burned from ear to ear, I realized that the sanctity and purity of my heart—nay, my very soul—was in jeopardy!
So naturally, I did the only logical thing a kansen would do in that situation.
"Don't look!" I screamed before putting both hands over his eyes. He started flailing more, but I was more concerned with protecting my chastity than his comfort.
"Nagato, why do I hear the sound of a drowning senior officer over the radio?" Akagi inquired.
"What are you talking about—oh, good heavens!" In my haste, I hadn't so much blocked his view as I shoved his head under the water, which prompted the vigorous, panicked flailing when survival instincts kicked in. However, before I could do the sensible thing and stop, the officer suddenly went deathly silent and still, which was the exact opposite of how a rescue operation was supposed to go. "Ahh! Akagi, I don't think he's breathing! What should I do?"
"I suggest getting him back to the ship, and quickly," she answered in a calmness that was a stark contrast to how I currently felt.
On most days, a battleship could hardly be considered a fast seafaring vessel, and all the hopes and prayers in the world couldn't change that. Fear, however, was a very strong motivator. So with a full tank of mind-numbing panic, I hefted the unconscious officer over my shoulder and set course for Akagi at a speed that threatened to rupture my boilers. Thankfully, the aircraft carrier was close by, but that did present me with the bigger problem of getting back up to the flight deck fast enough to help the officer. As a kansen, I could certainly jump higher than the normal human, but without any kind of boost there were still limits.
But then I realized, Choshu wasn't the only one that could make use of a certain gunnery trick. Now a more sensible person would've acknowledged that my turret arrangement was different than my counterpart's, not to mention she likely also made use of special ammunition and propellant, and had special training to maintain control when being launched through the air. Again, fear brought a unique sense of motivation, so without giving it a second thought, I leapt into the air and fired all my guns behind me.
It must have been quite the shock to Akagi to hear battleship-caliber cannons go off right next to her, followed seconds later by me screaming and tumbling through the air stern over bow. By some small grace, I managed to land on my backside without any harm coming to my charge. However, his situation was still dire, as a quick check revealed once I had laid him down.
"Oh no, he isn't breathing!" I exclaimed, having confirmed my worst fears.
Akagi, having already been on the flight deck in order to coordinate the recovery, laid a hand upon my shoulder when she noticed panic had begun to take hold of me. "Just remember your training, Nagato," she reminded me. "You'll need to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."
"M-mouth-to-mouth?" I stammered.
As if my anxieties hadn't been twisted around enough, now I had to face the prospect of putting my lips against his. My mind immediately began to reel at the very thought of how the upper echelons of the Sakura Empire's courts would react if they found out that one of their esteemed priestesses had engaged in such a salacious act. To have been seen in an undignified state, such as before, was scandalous, but something I could probably have recovered from with enough prayer and purification, but to engage in mouth to mouth contact? It was like comparing a candle to a bonfire in terms of sacrilege. Saving a life or not, if word about this spread, I would surely be dispatched to the most remote monastery in the Empire, or just discarded to a waterfront brothel like some harlot. For a brief moment, a dark seed planted itself into the deepest corners of my soul: maybe it would just be better if I did nothing. My place as a priestess was paramount for the spiritual well-being of the Empire. What was one man's life compared to the safe-keeping of my sacred duties? The only person who knew exactly what transpired was me.
Thankfully for both of us, such thoughts didn't last long before calmer, more rational thought shone a light on such horrid reasoning. Just because I was duty-bound to protect and serve the Empire, that didn't excuse my responsibility to humanity as a whole. We kansens were brought about to protect everyone from the Sirens, not just our respective nations. And if I couldn't bring myself to do whatever it took to save one life, what right did I have to stand on equal footing to someone like Mikasa? She wouldn't have hesitated for a second. Granted, she also wouldn't have allowed the situation to spiral out of control as I had, but that wasn't the issue at stake anymore. The only thing that mattered in that instant was that a man's life was in jeopardy, and I had to take responsibility for my mistakes.
Like Akagi said, I just had to rely upon my training. I pinched the man's nose, tilted his head back, and then set about breathing air into his lungs. His lips were cold and damp, and the taste of crude oil still clung to them, but there was no other option. As I poured breath after breath into him, thoughts and worries of my reputation started fading with the ocean spray, replaced only by my concern for the life that was now in my hands. I couldn't let him die, and not because of how it would look upon me. Nobody deserved to die so far away from home, surrounded only by strangers who didn't even know their name.
I soon found myself uttering prayers between breaths, likely praying harder than I ever had before in my life. Although, it was entirely possible that nothing but incoherent ramblings were all that came out because a growing light-headedness had descended upon me, and I could barely think straight, let alone manage a proper litany.
Just as I was about to black out from sheer breathlessness, the man finally let out a sudden, gargled cough, spitting up a mouthful of sea water in the process. He was breathing on his own again!
"Oh, thank heavens," I said before exhaustion took over and dragged me to the ground.
"I can take him down to the infirmary if you want to catch your breath," Akagi offered.
"Yes, please. Thank you," I replied before noticing something in my colleague's hand. "What is that?"
"Oh, this?" She held up the item, which was small, rubber, and triangular in shape. "It's a mask so you can provide mouth-to-mouth without having to make physical contact." She demonstrated by holding it up to her own face, where it could form a seal around her mouth while a small opening allowed the rescuer to breath in. "I was going to offer it to you, but you got started right away and so enthusiastically; I didn't want to interrupt."
At that point, I was too exhausted to feel any sort of embarrassment or aggravation. Everything was just cold, numb, and still gasping for air.
"What happened here, we will never speak of again, understood?"