Chapter Ten
Although the battle had ended, much to everyone's relief, there was little time for rest in the aftermath. Akagi, the aircraft carrier, had taken significant damage over the course of the skirmish, and while we had managed to keep her afloat, she had been riddled with enough holes that a strong wind would make the entire vessel whistle. The next several hours were spent making sure that nothing would explode, spring a leak, or spontaneously combust, which wouldn't have taken nearly as long except that we were working with less than a tenth of the normal crew complement. As I had little training in damage control procedures or engineering, I could only make myself useful helping with some of the more menial tasks, particularly those that required a bit of extra muscle.
By the time we had finished all of the critical tasks, nightfall was upon us, and we made the decision to put the majority of the remaining repairs on hold until the morning. Everyone was exhausted, and there was little value in pushing the crew through the night. As long as we were able to continue sailing safely, that was all that mattered. Plus, although it was far too grim to point out, nobody was in any condition to fight another skirmish, so if the Sirens came again, no amount of repairs would change the outcome.
In the end, after everything that had happened in the past few days, and despite how tired and weary I imagined everyone was, the crew still managed to find the energy to throw an impromptu celebration in the galley, or at least what was left of it because a shell had detonated in one of the nearby rooms so one half of the eating area had been reduced to twisted steel around a gaping hole. I was surprised by the resiliency of the crew; under similar circumstances I would've gone to sleep as soon as possible. Such unbridled revelry felt too… undignified for someone of my station. I was a kansen, and they were human: it just didn't feel quite right to stand amongst them like that.
It did sound like a lot of fun, though, judging by the noise I could hear coming from the galley.
There were a lot of things still weighing on my mind since the skirmish, not least of which were the possible implications that the person who attacked us was Choshu's sister. If my suspicions were true, how did she even get here? And what reason did she have to turn against humanity? This wasn't like when Choshu attacked me upon her arrival, as that could be explained by confusion and paranoia brought about by Siren trickery, but this other girl appeared to know what she was doing. Between all the questions and the guilt of knowing I kept my colleague in the dark, I knew I'd never be able to relax until I spoke to someone about this.
Were she available, I would've turned to Mikasa without hesitation, as there were few people whose wisdom I trusted more, and because the issue involved Choshu, I could not discuss it with her or Mutsu, the latter of whom I could trust with my life, but not necessarily a secret. That left only two people on the ship that I felt I could confide in. While some would probably call me a fool, I nonetheless decided in the late hours of the night to wander off in search of Akagi.
I hadn't seen her in several hours, but since we were all busy with repair work that didn't come as a surprise. It took some wandering and a bit of asking around, but eventually I found my colleague at the very top of the island on the observation deck. Amongst the array of mounted binoculars and rangefinders, the nine-tailed kansen leaned against the railing as she peered out to the night sky. Although there was some overcast, a crescent moon bathed the ocean in a faint silver aura, and provided just enough illumination that I could make my way over to her without tripping over anything. Surprisingly, she didn't react to my presence, even as I stood next to her. I couldn't have snuck up on her, and it was unlikely she'd intentionally snub me, so it appeared as though I had caught my colleague in a moment of introspection.
I hadn't known Akagi to be the type: few in the empire radiated as much confidence as she normally did.
"It's unusual for you to remain so distant in the company of others," I spoke up in order to announce my presence.
Sure enough, there was a brief flicker of surprise, barely visible beneath the moonlight, as she turned to realize I was two feet from her. "Oh! Lady Nagato, my sincere apologies. I was so lost in thought, I didn't even hear you approach."
"So it would seem. May I ask what could be so consuming as to blind one as perceptive as you?" While I had come to the observation deck to give voice to my worries, I saw no harm in providing an ear to the concerns of my colleagues. After all, it was a rare moment to find Akagi at such a loss. I always wondered what someone like her worried and fretted about, if they ever did at all.
"It's just that…" she paused for a moment as she let out a quiet sigh, then rested her chin into her palm. "Ever since Project Orochi, I've found my beliefs… challenged, again and again. It's leading to an uncomfortable experience as I begin to wonder what else I might be mistaken about."
"There should never be shame in admitting that one has been wrong about something. It is a sign of growth and learning," I reassured her. It was hard to imagine Akagi ever admitting to being wrong, but there were many things that I had not thought possible before the universe dropped an alternate timeline version of me onto our laps.
"I've always believed in the strength of the Sakura Empire," Akagi continued on. "In order for us to survive, that strength must not only be absolute, but it must be wholly our own. We cannot rely on alliances, or gods, or foreign powers for our strength, it must come from within, or we will always be dependent on others."
This was a conversation that had a familiar ring to it. It was why even now she still objected to the alliance with Azur Lane, at least in principle. "The only beings with such power are the gods, and while we might strive to be like them, at the end of the day, we are still but mortals, existing in an ever-interconnected world."
Akagi let out a quiet giggle. "And how many times have we butted heads on that?" she said, followed by a wistful sigh. "You know, I've always sought to rely upon my own strength. I don't want to be beholden to gods and prayers—I want to control my own destiny. Yet, that desire got twisted, and resulted in me becoming a puppet, and it was only because of others that I was saved."
Though I was surprised that it had taken this long for Akagi to start coming around, I was nonetheless relieved that the experiences appeared to have humbled her. The whole Project Orochi incident had been an eye-opening experience for everyone, and with any luck, we all came out of it as better people. I was still curious as to why this was coming up now, of all times.
"You are still strong, Akagi, stronger than almost anyone else in the Empire. But I don't think even kansen were meant to stand alone."
"Yes… I believe that's what Amagi had been trying to teach me all those years ago. If only I hadn't been too full of myself to listen." A mournful smile creased her lips; it was the first time in many years I had heard her speak openly of her sister. Everyone knew that Amagi's passing left an emptiness in her, but I think we all just wanted to believe that Kaga alone had been enough to fill it. We put a huge burden on one kansen just to spare us the trouble of dealing with the other. In a way, we all shared in the blame of how things eventually turned out with Project Orochi.
"She entrusted us with her hopes and dreams. I wonder what she'd say if she could see us now."
While I wouldn't say that Amagi and I had been close on a personal level, I had considered her as much of a friend as my position as flagship afforded me, and she had served me as a tactical advisor for almost the entire time. Looking back, there was little doubt that my relation with Amagi influenced my decision to assign Akagi as her successor. If I hadn't put her in such an influential position, the younger sister's ambitions would not have flourished and Project Orochi could have been avoided. Then again, the kansens of the Sakura Empire were all so interconnected, it was impossible to separate cause and effect into singular events. If Amagi hadn't been so ill, if Akagi had been less passionate, if I had been more skeptical… it was like there were a hundred different ways we could have avoided calamity, if only we had all just tried a little harder, or been a bit wiser.
"If Amagi were here, she'd probably hit me right on the head," Akagi said, followed by a surprisingly jovial laugh. "And then she'd make me shake hands with Enterprise and promise to be friends from here on out."
"Maybe you should do that when we meet with her," I suggested, more on a whim than a serious recommendation.
Much to my surprise though, Akagi just gave a slow, somber nod before she turned about to lean back against the railing. "Perhaps I will."
"Wait, you will?"
"It's been that kind of day." She giggled again, this time because of my dumbfounded expression as I tried to discern what was serious and what was her teasing. "After all, I never imagined I'd find myself grateful to a human, and yet here I am."
The fact that she referred to a single person, rather than the crew as a whole, did not escape my notice. "Do you mean Captain DeWolf?"
"It's funny, really; compared to them, sirens and kansens must seem like gods," she said in a sort of whimsical musing. "Even I, forced to sit on the sidelines and watch as you and the others sortied against the enemy, couldn't help but feel… powerless. Scared, even." Even though I had been able to pick up on it during our radio messages during the skirmish, it was still surreal to hear Akagi admit to fear. For all of her faults, I couldn't picture anyone braver than the kansen who practically made it her mission to challenge the heavens themselves. "When he went to inform the crew what was happening, I could see in their faces that none of them were afraid, and it was because of him. When he spoke, they understood what had to be done. It was as though they all drew strength from him just from trust in him alone. Despite all my worries, when I saw how calm he was, I couldn't help but feel reassured. Like a part of me just knew things would be okay."
For a second, I was almost certain that I was either dreaming, or that during the battle I had taken one too many blows to the head and was only now feeling the consequences of it. The way Akagi spoke of DeWolf was in a manner and tone that I don't think I had ever heard from her before. It sounded almost like she admired the man, which ran contrary to how she had always conducted herself. DeWolf was hardly the first officer she's ever dealt with, but I've never heard such glowing praise regarding anyone in the empire's admiralty. I even began to wonder if all of the times she's praised my wisdom and leadership had merely been lip service…
Honestly, it was rather irksome.
"Well, if you think he's such an incredible leader, why don't just defect to Azur Lane," I said while trying, and failing, to mask that annoyance.
"Come now, Nagato, jealousy doesn't suit you," Akagi teased as she poked me in the cheek. "I'm just saying he's proven to be… interesting." I still wasn't sure what to make of that, especially when 'interesting' could be a euphemism for any number of things.
While I had to admit, at least to myself, that DeWolf had shown to be competent in a crisis, to me it was still difficult to reconcile that with the persistent memory of him peering up my skirt, or when he tore off my robes. Those may not have been entirely his fault, but nobody else had ever put me into such scandalous situations before, so he must bear some responsibility, right?
"He's just another officer, and he didn't seem that special to me," I insisted. "Plus, didn't he tell you to 'stick to being an aircraft carrier' earlier?"
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, is it not?" she replied before stepping away from the railing. Her gaze kept skyward as she slowly strolled to the hatch that led back inside. "I've served the Sakura Empire for a long time, and I've been asked to fight for a great many reasons: for glory; for honour; to protect our borders; for the future of the empire. Nobody before had ever asked me to not fight because that was what took more strength."
"I'm surprised that you'd see it that way, especially given your preference for pre-emptive strikes."
"As I said, he's interesting."
Without another word, Akagi headed inside, leaving me alone to consider what we had discussed. For someone to catch her attention so quickly like that was hard to fathom. She usually held others to very high standards, and her opinion of non-kansens rarely got above lukewarm. Captain DeWolf had proven to be a capable officer, and he did hold the loyalty and confidence of his crew, not to mention how he helped me when my confidence had wavered during the battle. I wanted to think that Akagi was toying with me again by painting him in a better light, knowing how I felt about the embarrassing encounters I've had with him. Then again, would she really have waited out on the observation deck for so long just to play a mental game with me?
"Is she… no, she couldn't be," I murmured under my breath. Then a realization smacked me across the face. "Hold up, I forgot about the whole reason I came out here in the first place!"
I got so caught up in Akagi's introspection that talking about the possibility of a second Mutsu never entered my mind. Figuring if I hurried, I could still catch her before she got too far, but just as I reached the hatch to go back inside, it popped open to reveal the visage of my little sister.
"Ah! There you are," Mutsu said, a vibrant smile across her face that was a stark contrast to the bandaged cuts on her cheek and brow, and singed bangs. "I'm about to go down to sickbay to hand out dinner to the wounded. Could you give me a hand?"
"It would be my pleasure," I replied. Though it meant giving up on speaking with Akagi, I figured there was no harm in letting it wait until later. Helping my sister would provide ample distraction, so at least my time wouldn't be spent fretting.
We headed below deck to the galley, where Mutsu and a few of the other sailors had already prepared and packaged up all of the food. By the gods' blessings, we managed to escape from the skirmish against the mystery kansen and her Siren pawns without suffering any casualties, but Akagi's infirmary was now packed with wounded as shell splinters, burns, and smoke inhalation took their toll. What a few days ago had only needed a dozen mess tins now required almost thrice that, which led to Mutsu and I making our way through the narrow corridors with each of us hauling a rucksack stuffed with enough tins that our clattering could be heard throughout the ship.
On the bright side, this meant that by the time my sister opened the infirmary door, they had ample warning of our arrival. It shouldn't have been surprising that the people inside appeared to be in just as good spirit as everyone else, despite their injuries. As the flagship, I often stayed well behind the battlelines, and the few times I did deploy, it was only in the company of other kansens, so it had been a long time since I had seen the effects of war on people up close. Despite being bloodied, bruised, or choked on smoke, there wasn't a single frowning face among the sailors as we handed out dinner. Akagi's old warnings about western men still lingered at the very back of my mind, but as a whole I was no longer uneasy being around these particular sailors. What did make me wary, though, was the casual familiarity they appeared to have with my sister.
"A fresh dinner served by such a little cutie? If I didn't know better, I would've thought I'd had died and gone to heaven," one sailor remarked in a boisterous tone before he patted Mutsu on the head.
It took every ounce of willpower I had not to hurl a mess tin at the offending sailor's head. Who did he think he was to pat my little sister on the head so brazenly! In the Sakura Empire, such disrespect would've earned him a caning if he was lucky, and there were kansens known to leave more senior officers hanging from flagpoles for lesser offenses. The only thing that kept me from speaking up was Mutsu laughing alongside with the sailor.
"You're such a joker, Danny!" she said in a mirthful giggle. "I don't think your wife would like hearing you say that about other girls though."
Danny? When did my sister start being on a first-name basis with these people? I knew my sister was outgoing, but I hadn't expected her to be such a social butterfly. I began to think that Akagi should've given her the warning instead of me.
On second thought, it was probably for the best if Mutsu hadn't heard the same warning.
None of the sailors spoke to me in such a manner, although that may have had something to do with how I handed out the meals in absolute silence while making constant, furtive glances to my sister. Just in case somebody tried to show too much gratitude.
"They don't bite," a familiar voice suddenly snapped my attention away. It was only at that moment I realized that I was standing, offering out a mess tin, in front of the cot where Kawakaze lay.
"I'm not worried about biting," I answered, making sure to speak in my native tongue so that none of the sailors nearby could eavesdrop. "I suppose I am just… unaccustomed to seeing people treat my sister in such a casual manner. One would be hard-pressed to think we were the protectors of the sacred sakura tree with such behaviour. And I do not like the sound of this 'Danny' person."
The brief flicker of a chuckle that came from my colleague caught me by surprise. "That's because you're too sheltered," she answered as she took the mess tin from me.
"I… I beg your pardon?"
"We're friends now, so I can be more honest," she continued without missing a beat. She popped open the tin and took a moment to breathe in the rising steam. A hot meal always had a way of invigorating people. "Listen, you've spent most of your life walled off from people, save for those of higher stations. It's to be expected for you to be a little out of touch."
"What happened to being my quiet and respectful bodyguard?"
"Don't confuse being respectful with being a sycophant," she said before taking a mouthful of rice. "These people aren't like the ones you're used to: they don't get to spend their days under the watchful eye of powerful kansen fleets. The threat of Sirens is still very real, and day after day they have to take the risk of sailing the oceans. They can't afford to waste time with all the social guidelines and protocols that you and I are used to. They live their lives like each day could be their last, and from what I heard, it was only a few days ago that they were convinced that was happening."
I fell silent as I mulled over her words, and watched as my sister continued her way through the infirmary with her deliveries. Every wounded sailor greeted her with a smile; wherever she went, laughter and cheer seemed to follow along. Compared to a kansen, whose very existence was meant to stand against the worst of the Sirens, their lives all seemed so frail, and yet they showed no sign of worry or fear. I found myself somewhat envious of their mental fortitude: it looked as though nothing on this planet could dampen their spirits.
"They are a strange bunch," I commented, more to myself than anything. "But I am beginning to think they are not the carnal-driven beasts that Akagi suggested."
Kawakaze shrugged. "Both are probably true, to an extent. Do keep in mind, they are westerners, so they probably prefer their women having more… mature figures."
"Of course they would," I grumbled under my breath. That might explain why Akagi had been the recipient of untoward advances while Mutsu and I have thus far been spared. Not that I wanted to experience it for myself, but it stung my pride to realize that they probably couldn't see me as a woman. "Have any of them bothered you?" I asked, since Kawakaze had more of that 'mature' figure, at least compared to me.
"A few have said hello, mostly out of curiosity. They've been friendly and polite, but then again, I do have a sword with me." She tapped the weapon resting beside her on the cot a couple times just to emphasize the point. "Have you had a chance to talk with any of them?"
"Of course I have."
"And it wasn't work related?" she followed up.
"I'll have you know I spoke with Captain DeWolf about—" I was about to finish that train of thought until I remembered that those rails led to 'when he accidentally tore off my clothes', and I had serious concerns about how long he'd survive if Kawakaze found out about that. I knew I needed to come up with a plausible substitute because I could only stand there looking like I was having a stroke for so long before she'd get suspicious. "Uhh… a-about… seasickness."
It came as no surprise that my friend was unconvinced by this, but at least it appeared that she wasn't about to make an issue out of it. "You should consider it. It might help broaden your horizons," she suggested before turning her attention back to her meal. "And thank you for the food."
I was just about to leave my friend to her recovery, when I realized that she was the second person that I had considered discussing the matter of our kansen opponent with. The infirmary may not have been the ideal secluded location to hold such sensitive talks, but between the ambient noise and sticking to our native language, a private conversation could still be held.
"Listen, about that kansen we fought," I said whilst double-checking to ensure nobody around us appeared overly interested in what we might be discussing. "We only spoke briefly, but I fear that she may—"
"Hey Kawakaze! Did you get enough to eat?" Mutsu interjected with all the poise and subtlety of a naval bombardment. I almost jumped on the spot from how suddenly she now stood at my side, when I could've sworn she was on the other side of the room five seconds ago. "Are you going to be okay? The doctors are treating you well, right? By the way, what are you even doing here? Nobody mentioned that you were going to be coming along. I thought you were assigned to Lady Yamato. Did she order you to join us?"
"She is trying to rest. Please do not trouble her with excessive questioning," I answered in my friend's stead. She was still eating so I figured she'd appreciate the opportunity to continue. "But to answer your main question, Kawakaze told me she decided to join us because—ow!"
I was interrupted yet again, but this time the culprit was Kawakaze, who had jabbed me with her elbow. She was unperturbed by the harsh glare I shot back at her, but I decided against making an issue of it.
"I felt the decision to send a convoy of capital ships without a proper escort was unwise," Kawakaze answered between mouthfuls of rice, acting as though she didn't just forcibly interrupt me a moment ago. "It took some time, but I eventually convinced Lady Yamato and the admiralty to authorize my departure to join you."
"Aw, we missed you, too," Mutsu proclaimed, followed by patting the wounded kansen upon the head.
The silvered fox just looked away. "It was a tactical decision," she murmured back.
"Well, catching up to us must have really tired you out," Mutsu continued on. She fished out another mess tin and handed it over. "Be sure to eat plenty and get some rest, okay?"
Had she not insisted, I would've; I could only imagine how worn out Kawakaze must've been to have caught up to us when she did. I also knew she'd never admit to feeling anything less than fully operational even when it was obvious that wounds and fatigue had taken their toll. The closest thing to an acknowledgement we'd get was a restrained and silent nod when she took and set aside the second tin. To my surprise, my sister took out yet more tins and shoved them into my hands.
"By the way, the doctor asked if we could make sure that Captain DeWolf had dinner. He said 'that man will work himself to death if you don't stop him'. Could you go find him and make sure he eats?"
"W-wait, why me?" There were hundreds of people on board, so the idea that I had to be the one to go deliver his meal seemed unnecessary, especially when even the thought of him still made me fluster with the thoughts of our past encounters. "S-surely you could go do it, or one of the other crew members."
For reasons known only unto the heavens, Mutsu ignored my protests, and even went so far as to take my rucksack of mess tins for herself. "But the two of you get along so well," she said. "I'll handle the rest of the deliveries, so don't you worry about that."
Clearly, she wasn't taking no for an answer, which only worried me further. "B-b-but he saw me naked," I blurted out without thinking.
"He saw what?" Kawakaze interjected, her sword now gripped firmly in hand.
"Nothing. He saw nothing!" I stammered hastily. "He fainted right away when it happened!" Thank the divine that in my frantic haste, I couldn't think clearly enough to speak in anything other than my native tongue, so my embarrassment wasn't being broadcasted to the entire infirmary. While it was strange that I was now defending him, there was a non-zero possibility that Kawakaze would take it upon herself to cleanse my dishonour with his blood. Even if she wasn't officially my bodyguard anymore, there was still the old saying about old habits and their inability to die.
"So you're saying that upon seeing your bare form, all the blood rushed to his lower half and he lost consciousness," Kawakaze somehow concluded.
"Th-that is not what I—Gah! Just stop that!" Flustered and frustrated, I gave up trying to talk my way out of the situation and began to look for a convenient excuse to leave. "Nothing like that happened, so no killing anybody! You stay put and eat, that's an order." While I still had my worries about delivering DeWolf's dinner, it now became my easiest way out. I took the tins and just hurried on my way, not stopping or slowing until I knew I was a safe distance from them. Of course, now that I had taken the food, I had no other choice but to deliver it, as I knew for certain that if I tried to shirk this duty, word would make its way back to Mutsu sooner or later. Given a choice between embarrassment and disappointing her, the latter was without a doubt the worst choice.
Thus, I soon found myself wandering through the corridors in search of the wayward captain. With any luck, I could just drop off the food and be done with the task; given all of my previous conversations with him, DeWolf didn't seem interested in the company of a kansen anyways. According to my sister, my quarry had a habit of overworking, so I decided to start my search in the lower decks near the engine rooms, boiler rooms, and machine shops, as most of the vital repair work remaining was in that general vicinity.
It still took some time and a lot of wandering empty hallways, for finding a single particular person on a ship designed to hold more than fifteen hundred sailors was no small feat. Perseverance, diligence, and a lot of process of elimination eventually led me to a machine shop in the aft quarter of the ship where few people wandered by without deliberate reason. The faint telltale echoes of discussion were what first drew me in, and by the time I got to the door, I could tell before I even looked in that it was Captain DeWolf conversing with his brother, Dr. DeWolf.
Things were going to get confusing if I started calling both of them DeWolf.
I peered inside, at first, and saw the two brothers toiling away at the workbench. Before them was what looked to be a portable generator, stripped apart into a myriad of smaller components with the pair staring at the array as though examining a jigsaw puzzle. Dr. DeWolf held a booklet in one hand, which he continually glanced back at as he picked and sifted his way through some of the smaller bits.
"Is this the one you want?" he asked as he offered up a bolt.
"Think it's a bit too big. Keep looking."
Seeing the two of them standing next to one another reinforced the truth that they were brothers, despite the superficial details that painted them in stark contrast. Despite one messy and one composed, they both toiled away with the same diligence and care to the point that even their movements seemed similar, to say nothing of the familial resemblance that finally became apparent now that I could see both at once. Were they twins?
"Are you sure you read it correctly?" Captain DeWolf asked.
"We can switch tasks if you'd feel better."
I decided to take that moment to announce my arrival, knocking on the open door a couple times to call their attention. "Good evening gentlemen, I was instructed to bring Captain DeWolf his dinner," I announced before walking to the workbench.
The scientist brother shot an accusatory glare to the other. "I thought you said you ate already."
"I'll eat when we're done," the other brother replied without so much as even taking his eyes off his work.
Having already been warned of this possibility, I set the mess tin down on the workbench and pushed it over to him. "You need to eat, sir; both the doctor and your crew would be worried if they knew you were pushing yourself this hard."
My petition didn't appear to be convincing, as he continued his work unabated, pausing only for a brief moment as he checked an assortment of bolts and screws. Without even acknowledging my request, he grabbed a handful of loose parts and headed for the exit. "I think I saw what I need next door," he announced just as he left.
It was a shoulder so cold that it left even a kansen, as resistant to the weather as we were, with a chill. He didn't even bother to see what I had brought him to eat, or at the very least show any sign of gratitude for the effort even if he wasn't interested in partaking right away. A part of me wondered if it might have been better if Mutsu had come instead—she likely would've presented herself in a more persuadable manner, or, better yet, refused to take no for an answer as opposed to me who had already resigned myself to this failure. If I couldn't convince even a starving officer to eat, I clearly wasn't the caliber of leader I had imagined myself to be.
"Don't take it too personally," the remaining DeWolf said, as if sensing my dismay.
"It is hard to interpret his response as anything other than that he does not like me."
"It's not you specifically," he insisted, unconcerned, "it's just kansens. He doesn't know how to deal with your kind. He likes things neat and structured, and your kind are very much not."
I had heard people describe kansens in a variety of ways—from heroes, saviours, blessings from the heavens, and even monsters and abominations—but this was a first for me. "I don't understand, Dr. DeWolf. Could you please elaborate? I know some kansens can be messy or slovenly, but I would hardly ascribe that to all my kind."
"No, no, not in that sense." He set his book down and proceeded to start arranging the various nuts, bolts, and screws into a series of neat rows, forming a pyramid shape. "James is military through and through, where everything is organized into nice little hierarchies where all of your duties, responsibilities, and etiquettes are defined by long-standing traditions and codes of conduct." He then grabbed the nearest tool he could, a wrench, and dropped it right into the middle of his arrangement, sending bits of metal clattering in every direction. "And then there's kansens smack in the middle of it all. You're a part of the military, but you're not officers or enlisted. You don't even have ranks because who's going to tell someone like Enterprise they need to go to JOTC or through boot camp when they're already strong enough to beat down Sirens? Should Enterprise outrank a lieutenant? A captain? An admiral? You exist as both part of the system and yet separate from it."
"And so because I do not fit into this grand scheme, he is bothered by me?" I asked as I grappled with all the implications that had been thrown my way. I had rarely considered my place in the world from the viewpoint of the officer class. Granted, my place in the Sakura Empire had been explicitly defined since my inception, so I knew nothing firsthand of the disorder that Dr. DeWolf described. It was undeniable, though, that despite being a military fleet, we in the Sakura Empire did not behave much like a military outfit even at the best of times.
"In fairness, he's always been like that. It's probably one of the reasons why he's always been so shy growing up."
"Shy? A naval captain shy?" I repeated, almost having more trouble picturing that than I had following the previous exchange. "He seemed very confident whenever we spoke; are you certain that we're talking about the same person, Dr. DeWolf?"
He just let out a good natured laugh. "Again, the military is neat and structured, so it's easy to hide those particular flaws behind protocol. And please, just call me Joseph. Or Joe. Hearing 'doctor' just feels strange when it's from someone so small and cute."
Small? Cute? While I've certainly been called as such by my fellow kansens, coming from him was rather embarrassing. Cute and small was how someone described a housepet, not a battleship, especially the former flagship of the Combined Fleet. However, he did sound sincere, and there wasn't any hint of malice or contempt in his voice, so it was possible he was just trying to be complimentary. I soon found myself wondering if this was the sort of thing that Akagi had originally warned me about: that he was trying to butter me up before he made his move.
Without even realizing it, I already had my hands up protecting my ears. "Captain DeWolf said to alert him if you tried anything funny," I cautioned.
"I've been bitten once already, I've learned my lesson," Joseph reassured me. "After spending so much time studying kansens on paper, it's easy for me to forget that there's a person underneath all that firepower. Maybe that's why you're all so cute."
"M-must you keep calling me that?" I lamented with growing embarrassment.
"I'm serious," he insisted with surprising directness. "Kansens are created through the collective will and memories of humanity, right? And yet I doubt you'd find many people who, if asked to picture the living embodiment of the Imperial Japanese Battleship Nagato, would come up with… you." He gestured at me with a slight wave while I still wondered whether what he said was meant to be taken as a positive or not. "If I were to envision a protector of humanity to fight against something as vast and powerful as Sirens, I would've gone with something bigger, more imposing. Not to say that some kansens aren't terrifying in their own ways, but as a whole, your kind is… alarmingly pleasant-looking. Have you never wondered why?"
My moment of silent pondering was a sufficient enough answer for him. Indeed, I had never given much thought to the nature of a kansen's appearance, but with so many other things to worry about, in particular Sirens, it struck me as a trivial consideration. "Does there really need to be a reason? Are we not simply as varied as humanity is?"
"Ha! If we had a kansen with stretch marks and cellulite, that might be plausible. No, no, it's far too prevalent to be coincidence. It has a deliberate purpose."
"You make it sound almost nefarious," I remarked with a growing wariness. I've heard people in the past remark about some of the destroyers being 'too cute' but his implications appeared to go in a much different direction. I found myself unsure of which reason in particular to be wary of Dr. DeWolf. Perhaps this was why we kansens never really hung around the scientists, despite the latter's obvious interest in learning more about us.
"On the contrary, it's probably been pivotal to the entire human-kansen relation," Joseph continued on, his tempo and excitement growing stronger with every passing moment. "Let's be honest, if we took your powers and gave them to a bunch of blokes that look like me, people would be very skeptical of us. We'd probably be kept on a very short leash. With the level of disparity between humans and kansens, the relationship we have wouldn't be possible without a solid foundation of trust right from the very start. It's like… a flock of sheep being protected from wolves by a lion."
It was hard to deny that some of us probably got a lot of slack from the admirals in charge because of our looks, with Akagi as the first to come to mind. It wouldn't surprise me in the least that she had used some of her feminine charm to get the admiralty to approve of her participation in this mission, and I was immediately reminded of some of the things she said to Captain DeWolf earlier. As shallow as it made humanity seem, it was hard to deny that they were far more willing to trust and believe things if it came from a pretty face. Looking back on their history of how they sometimes treated their own soldiers, would we have received similar treatment if kansens had been men? The relation between our kinds appeared more nuanced than I had given it credit. Did all humans think it over as thoroughly as Joseph, or was this just the product of his presumably vast intellect.
Clearly, he just had too much time to think about things.
"So you're saying we kansens were made attractive so it would be easier for humans to accept us as we are?" I asked, rhetorical as it was at this point. "I feel… both intrigued and slightly insulted."
"Agamemnon once launched a thousand ships to get back a woman who left him. We've done plenty of crazy things for a pretty face."
It was at that moment that the other DeWolf made his return, although his only announcement to his arrival was the tread of heavy, tired steps at the doorway. "There's a reason why the only positives people say about your latest research paper are 'plentiful' and 'absorbent'," Captain DeWolf said in a sardonic quip. "Please try not to distract the kansens with your wild theories. They've enough on their plates without you adding to it."
"I'm socializing," Joseph insisted with feigned indignation. "You should try it once in a while, you might actually make a friend."
"I'm here to do a job, not fraternize." There as another chill emanating from the officer, but whatever effect his glare could have, it appeared to be utterly useless against his brother, who proceeded to laugh it off. James' sentiments, though, reminded me of a certain silver-haired fox associate of mine. For a moment I considered the idea of introducing the two, but then I realized they would probably just proceed to ignore one another. Plus Kawakaze might still try to kill him…
"Of course you are," Joseph murmured, more to himself. He turned his attention back to the book he had been holding this whole time, but he only stared at it for a few moments before his gaze panned over to me. "You know what, I'm pretty tired. Why don't you take over for me? You just need to translate the written parts for him."
I didn't even have a chance to object before the book was unceremoniously shoved into my hands. I wanted to plead with him to not leave me alone with his brother, but stopped myself when I realized how embarrassing it would've been to say something like that out loud. I was a battleship of the Sakura Empire, for heaven's sake, why should I be bothered by working alongside a naval officer?
And yet somehow, I was. At least a little bit, not that I wanted to admit that openly. Captain DeWolf had a cold disposition that just emanated an aura of 'do not approach', as though he would bite me if I dared. However, I had just been entrusted with a task to assist him, and I would be remiss in my duties as a kansen to ignore an officer in need.
"Your brother is certainly an… interesting character," I remarked in a desperate bid to make conversation. "His theories do seem to hold some merit to them."
"You'd be the first to say that," James replied, even though his attention was back on the generator. After a brief, awkward silence he finally peered over to me. "Listen, I can finish this with just the diagrams. If you don't want to stay, then you can go back to your friends."
Oddly enough, despite now being given expressed permission to avoid the awkward situation I now found myself in, and every voice in my head telling me to flee at full steam, my body stayed put. To leave him with his brother was one thing, but to abandon him altogether was unacceptable. I remembered how Joseph described him as shy, something I still had a bit of trouble believing, but in that moment I could see what he had been referring to. In his words there was a loneliness, buried beneath duty and obligation. It was a sentiment I knew all too well.
"I was asked to help you finish, and to ensure that you ate your meal, so I intend to stay until my tasks are completed," I answered defiantly.
"I'm not hungry."
"Liar. You've not eaten in hours." Now I didn't have any proof of that, but between what this brother had said and what Mutsu had told me, I was willing to bet that they were right.
"Then after I'm done."
"Your food will get cold if you wait that long," I shot back, refusing to back down.
"It needs to get finished."
"And it will be there after you eat."
"Maybe it's just not right for me to have a hot meal right now!" he suddenly shouted, slamming his fist into the table with enough force to make a few screws jump in fright. It took a moment of tense silence before he eased up, the tension pouring out of him alongside a prolonged sigh. "Listen, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but not everyone in my crew was saved. I lost a lot of good people—kids who had a lot more going for them than a captain on his last legs." Realizing that his outburst had thrown the workbench into disarray, he set about re-organizing all the loose bits and pieces, even though there was little to actually tidy things up. "It just… doesn't feel proper."
With everything that was happening, and how jovial the crew had been tonight, it had been easy for me to forget that not everything in the past couple of days had been worth celebrating. They were soldiers; death was something to be expected, but that didn't mean people didn't grieve and mourn in their own ways, and it was becoming abundantly clear one person in particular felt the losses harder.
"So you feel you must punish yourself in order to make amends?" I asked. He just nodded in silence. "Is it because they are no longer here, or because you still are?" He didn't answer, but the silence alone spoke volumes. My time as flagship taught me what the weight of responsibility was like, and how suffocating and isolating leadership could feel at times. "If the people you lost were anything like the rest of your crew that I have met, then I know for certain that they would not want to see you hurting and blaming yourself like this. You should honour their memories by living well, so that they did not give up their lives in vain."
"I know, I know," he sighed in resignation, finally breaking his silence. "I keep telling myself that, but… after a while words just feel empty."
"Earlier today, when I began to feel unsure of myself, you told me to just keep moving forward, no matter what," I said as I picked up the mess tin. I offered it up to him, and mustered up my best attempt at a reassuring smile. "Please, Captain DeWolf; your crew and my sister poured their hearts into preparing this food. I ask only that you treat it with the same care."
His once guarded expression began to soften, although I couldn't tell if that was because my words had reached him, or I had simply guilted him into acquiescing. If it got him to eat, however, I was willing to settle with either option. Sometimes when a person was stuck in a downward spiral of negativity, getting them out of it was more important than how you pull it off. Yet despite my pleas, he continued to stare at the tin, and only after a few more silent moments, his gaze drifted further down.
"But my hands aren't clean."
My eyes followed his gaze down to his upturned palms. Both of his hands were covered in grease and oil to the point where it was hard to discern what his natural skin tone had been. Even the bandage that had been wrapped around his palm after we first brought him aboard had been stained to the point where it looked more like electrical tape than cotton. They were the hands of a man who refused to stop working even when everyone else had, and yet still clung to the dignity of his station that demanded cleanliness at dinnertime.
"I guess there's no helping it then," I said before setting the tin down, and proceeding to unpack its contents. With the chopsticks, I grabbed a piece of fried meat—I believe it was chicken this time around—and gingerly held it up for him. "If your hands are unsuitable, then I shall have to be your hands. Now eat. I will not take no for an answer."
DeWolf regarded the offered food with a mixture of wariness and trepidation, and I daresay he looked a little embarrassed by the situation. Truth be told, it was taking all of my willpower not to break down from a similar sentiment. Heaven help me if Mutsu or Akagi walked in on us, for I would never hear the end of it. But this needed to be done, and I couldn't very well turn my back on him. He was struggling, and from the looks of it, he didn't appear to have anyone he could really turn to or talk about it with. Everybody on board was either crew or kansen, with the one exception being his brother, and I got the impression from their interactions they weren't the type to have heart-to-heart talks.
Finally, he let out another one of those 'resigned to my fate' sighs, and then leaned in to eat the offered chicken morsel. "Thank you," he murmured in the midst of chewing. "Um, since my hands are free, do you mind if I keep working at the same time?"
"Very well," I said with a nod. May as well meet him half-way, I figured. "Could you tell me a bit more about your crew? If that's not too much to ask."
The corner of his lip curled into a barely visible smile. "Sure, I can do that."