Chapter Eleven

I awoke to the most curious of sensations: the calm, warming envelopment of sunlight upon my face, and a subtle breeze that tousled my hair such that it tickled my nose. For a moment, I just dismissed these sensations as byproducts of forgetfulness, that I had just left a window open last night and now the morning was trying to invade my abode.

Except I had gone to sleep inside a carrier. The breeze was too warm, the sunlight too bright, for the interior of a warship. And then there was the matter of a splash of salt water teasing at my toes. Yet despite my mind recognizing the abnormality of all these features, I could not bring myself to move or open my eyes just yet. I was just too comfortable. Too relaxed. It would've taken an earthquake to coax me from this bliss.

"Nagato! Hey, Nagato! Wake up already!"

Close enough.

With a murmur and a groan, I finally pried my eyes open. A pristine, beautiful blue sky greeted me, with only just a few fleeting clouds slowly drifting by. Little by little, the world around began to filter in: the calls of passing gulls, the crashing of waves against wooden docks, and the subtle tinge of carbon and sulphur in the air from nearby freighters as they sailed through the harbour before me. I realized then that I sat on the edge of an old pier at the very edges of what sounded to be a very busy port, even at such an early hour of the day.

"Come on, get up!" a voice beside called out, followed by a young girl grabbing me by the arm. She was a small girl, even compared to one as diminutive as myself, so despite her best efforts, her wiry figure couldn't dislodge me from my chosen spot. "Nagato!" she whined. "You said you'd take me to the firing range today. If you just keep loafing around like this, you'll just turn into a giant, useless blob."

"Hey, remember who you're talking to, kid. You ought to show your elders some respect," I said with a dismissive grunt before I pulled my arm back. The words were terse and blunt, and while they carried my voice, the words themselves did not feel as though they belonged to me. It was like I was reading someone else's script.

If there had been any malice in my tone, the girl clearly didn't take any offense, as she just smiled and laughed a girlish, care-free giggle. 'When was the last time I heard a child laugh like that?' I found myself wondering. I watched as the girl made a renewed attempt to uproot my slovenness, but to no avail. She made a show of displeasure by pouting melodramatically. The redness of her puffed cheeks made a stark contrast with the dark strands of her hair, which at that moment I noticed had been cut and shaped into a rather familiar-looking princess cut.

"Did you dye your hair?" I asked.

Her pouting came to an abrupt halt, although her fluster spread even further. "D-does it suit me?" she asked, timidly. "I wanted to have a more mature look, l-like yours."

"I liked how it was before. It was so much brighter and fluffier. It felt like… spring."

"It made me look like a child!" she snapped, falling back into her pouting ways.

I couldn't help but laugh, though. "You are a child."

To no surprise, the child didn't enjoy being reminded of that fact. She huffed and stomped her feet, calling me a 'meanie' and a 'bully' among other things. When she tried to storm off, though, it was my turn to grab hold of someone's arm. It only took a slight tug to send the girl tumbling over backwards, whereupon she landed squarely in my lap. She fussed and squirmed, like a kitten that didn't like the idea of being held, but after a moment or two she finally relented and accepted her fate.

"Meanie," she grumbled despite now curling up to me.

My arms closed in around her. She was so small and warm… so delicate. There was something about her that just calmed my heart as I held her tight. "Five minutes, and then we'll go out to the gun range. But I'm not letting you keep your hair like that." Afterwards I sighed, contented, as I nestled my head alongside hers. In truth, I could've stayed there forever. A part of me wanted to, even.

"Hey, Nagato?" the girl spoke up. "Once my rigging is finished, you promise you'll take me out on sorties, right?"

"There's no need to be in such a rush. You should enjoy your youth while you still can. Once you're a full-blown kansen, it's all just drills and patrols. Honestly, it's a lot of hard, boring work, and you always come back with your hair smelling like salt water and engine oil. It wouldn't suit you at all."

"Ha, just you wait and see!" the girl scoffed with a hand raised in defiance, albeit with a bit too much zeal as she smacked me in the side of the head. "Once I'm a full-fledged kansen, I'll be the best destroyer escort ever! Then those stupid admirals won't have any excuse to keep us holed up in this crummy harbour."

I laughed, but said nothing. Far be it for me to dampen her enthusiasm, after all, despite an overwhelming desire to just shield her away from everything that laid beyond the horizon. I sighed and let my eyes drift shut, thinking to myself that another nap wouldn't hurt. Things were perfect just the way they were anyways.

Until they weren't.

Suddenly the warmth in my embrace was gone without so much as even a residual afterglow. In its place was a sudden, gripping coldness that seemed to be worming its way over me, and as my eyes shot open, the answer became obvious. Where the young, vibrant girl had been now sat the siren, Observer, whose tendrils had already begun to ensnare my entire being. Gone was the gentle smile, and now only steely, calculating eyes gazed back at me.

And from her lips, came a chilling whisper, "But what do you really want?"

When morning returned to the Akagi, the aircraft carrier once again became a buzzing hive of activity. There were more than a few things that still needed repairing, on top of the handful of things that wound up breaking down during the course of the night, not least of which included one of the steam turbine engines needing to be shut down completely. It wasn't a huge problem, but it did mean having to make adjustments to the remaining engines in order to compensate for the loss of power to the starboard-most propeller shaft. Thankfully, this didn't result in any overall loss of speed since we were already traveling at a reduced pace in order to minimize the strain on her engines and boilers.

As these duties were suited for the likes of trained engineers, I and my fellow Nagato-class battleships had little to offer in support. Instead, we decided it would be best to tend to our own mechanical needs. While we may have not been repair ships or master mechanics, as kansens we were still trained in how to care and maintain our riggings. At the very least, it kept us busy, and according to Akagi, the sight of three battleship-class kansens working on their weapons on the flight deck in full view of any passing crew would help morale. I was no stranger to being used as a spectacle for others, but a part of me felt a little awkward sitting on the deck with Choshu and Mutsu as we tended to our rigging, which was now strewn before us like a scrapyard smorgasbord. It was a bit like being an animal in a zoo, but if it helped the crew feel more confident by knowing that their kansen defenders were just as hard at work then I kept my concerns to myself and focused on the task before me.

Or at least, I did to the best of my abilities. As with every morning after experiencing an unusual dream, I had been left fatigued beyond measure. While the dream itself had been less distressing than previous ones, it was more puzzling than usual. The first ones felt almost prophetic, as though my subconscious was trying to send me a message, but this latest one was more like reliving a moment in time. But who was that girl? And why was there a siren at the end? It was unsettling to consider the possibility that Observer had found a new way to torment me. Alas, it was hard to concentrate on both my maintenance duties and my internal troubles while under such sleep deprivation, and in the absence of meaningful answers, I focused on the more immediate of the two.

"When was the last time you replaced the lining for your cannons, Choshu?" I asked, peering through a gun barrel that I had just finished cleaning with a wire brush. The wearing on the rifling was almost to a point where they were more a suggestion than anything else. "I am amazed that you could hit anything with this level of erosion. These may as well be smoothbore."

"Beats me, maybe three or four years," Choshu answered with an indifferent shrug. She busied herself with an overturned turret, around which her legs were stradled to keep it balanced in order to leave her hands free to work. The turret itself was one of Mutsu's, but since we were all Nagato-class, we could work on each other's rigging just as easily as our own. "We're not like the Eagle Union who can have boats dedicated just for indulging in frivolous desserts: there's only so much material to go around, and there were kansens who needed it more than I did at the time."

I would've considered it unbecoming of a flagship to sail into battle with guns in such a condition, but I reminded myself that Choshu had clearly led a much different life than I. My rigging got a full workover and cleaning by maintenance crews at least once a year to ensure I was presentable enough to stand in front of the crowds. There were times I worried I spent more time polishing my barrels than actually using them. For Choshu's guns to have been worn so badly reflected a lot more fighting than I had likely done in my entire life. Might explain why she preferred getting in close.

"Guess you must've taken care of most of your rigging maintenance yourself then, huh?" Mutsu remarked. Despite doing the same level of work as Choshu and I, my sister still somehow managed to get herself splattered from top to bottom in grease and oil. It made me wonder if she was actually lubricating the barbettes or just finger-painting with the oils.

"It was no big deal," Choshu said with a dismissive hand wave. "If anything, it always made for a good opportunity to relax with the other kansens. We were always so busy running to and fro that we rarely had time to just sit and chat about things." She chuckled under her breath, then smiled contently. "I remember when I was stationed in Yokosuka, there was this one little kansen, Yaezakura, who'd always hang around me when I was doing maintenance. Or the cafeteria. Or the docks. Or anywhere, really."

"Yaezakura?" Mutsu repeated, visibly confused. "I don't know any kansen by that name."

"Really? She was Tachibana-class."

Unsurprisingly, that did little to wipe the puzzled stare from my sister's face.

"We must not have awakened any in our timeline, so she simply doesn't exist in our world," I stepped in to help fill in the explanation.

"Aw, that's a shame. It sounded like such a lovely name," my sister lamented.

"One day that might change," I reassured her, although it wouldn't have been inaccurate to say that was a lie. While I didn't know who Yaezakura was directly, I knew at least in theory what the Tachibana-class were: vessels that were small even by destroyer standards. Our government never authorized any attempt to awaken from their class because they didn't want to waste our limited stock of wisdom cubes on warships of such low tonnage, or at least that was the official explanation.

As Choshu was rare to speak of her world or its people beyond broad strokes, I didn't want to pass up the opportunity. "Could you tell us more about her, though?" I inquired.

"Impatient. Headstrong. Bit of a brat, too," Choshu replied with a chuckle and a shrug. "Not an ounce of concern about protocol or etiquette. She probably would've driven you nuts. Drove me nuts a few times… like her hair used to be all bright and pink and fluffy, but then she went and dyed it all black because she wanted to look more like me."

There was a softness in her tone that I had rarely seen from her, save for when we spoke about her sister a short time ago. It was reassuring to see that even a hardened warrior like her still had a soft spot for people. My sister noticed that, too, as she remarked, "Sounds like she really admired you, though. You two must've been really close."

"She used to be such a pain in my aft," she said with a levity that ran contrary to her message. "Every morning she'd somehow find me and pester me to take her out to the artillery range, or the workshops, or ask if I knew whether her rigging was finished or not. At first, you just play along because you feel sorry for her: a kansen without a rigging didn't have much to do, after all." I noticed her toilings began slowing down, her work almost coming to a complete halt as she drifted through her nostalgia. "With everyone so busy, though, it wasn't long before she started being the only person who'd come see me every day, and somewhere along the way, that annoyance became the only consistent thing you could actually look forward to."

Choshu fell into a solemn silence, one that I was hesitant to intrude upon. The same sentiment, however, was not shared by my little sister.

"Are you okay?" Mutsu asked.

"What? Of course I am," Choshu snapped back, sounding almost insulted at the mere suggestion.

"But you're crying."

Choshu just gave an incredulous stare for a second, but in her defense, she probably just didn't notice the tears that had been trickling down her cheeks. She probably remained skeptical until she finally felt them with her own fingers, at which point she just flashed a bright grin.

"Ha, guess that means I still have some heart after all," she said triumphantly. "I knew I was a little homesick, but not to this extent." She let out a boisterous laugh, but I don't think either myself or my sister were convinced of the sincerity. I may have not had my sister's insight and intuition, but I knew a forced smile when I saw it. Heavens knows how many times I've had to wear one, although according to Mutsu, mine were 'painfully stiff'. My counterpart's denial only lasted for a couple more moments before it sank like a submarine with a screen door as my sister rushed to Choshu's side and grabbed her in a vice-like hug.

"H-hey! What do you think you're doing?" she yelped in protest.

"Letting you know that you're not alone," Mutsu answered. A brief struggle ensued as Choshu tried to wriggle her way out of my sister's grasp, but it was a half-hearted effort, and I knew from personal experience that a Mutsu hug was as inescapable as a kotatsu on a cold winter's day. "It's okay, Choshu; your big sis will always stay by your side, no matter what."

"Mutsu, stop," the floundered battleship whined. "You're embarrassing me in front of the sailors. We can't show weakness in front of foreign powers."

Whether intentional or not, the complaints appeared to only spur my sister on further, prompting her to hug tighter and start petting Choshu on the head. "There, there," she cooed, much to my counterpart's chagrin.

"There's no harm in letting people see a softer side of you," I reminded my colleague while doing my best to suppress my snickering amusement. "It might make you seem less intimidating and more approachable."

"You're one to talk," an indignant Choshu shot back. "You're always so stiff and formal with everybody."

Before I could object, though, my sister came to my defense. "Now, now, Nagato just has her own way of doing things," she said with a reassuring grin. "But you know, she was up real late last night with Captain DeWolf. She was hand-feeding him dinner and everything. Oh, they looked just like a married couple!"

"I was simply helping a senior officer fulfill his duties while ensuring he remained properly cared for," was the response I wanted to give. My mind, however, was sent careening into a blind panic upon realizing that she saw the Captain and I last night. I knew it would be embarrassing, but I was certain that nobody would have been around, so when did Mutsu see it? Was I so wrapped up in it that I lost sight of my surroundings? It wasn't as if I enjoyed any of it… or maybe I did and that's why Mutsu described it as she had. Everything I was so certain about just a moment ago had turned on its head, and the heat burning me all the way to the tips of my ears had turned my brain into a bowl of overcooked udon. As a result, my attempt at a carefully phrased and calculated response came out as, "M-m-m-married? W-what are you—I-I-I was j-just doing what the doctor asked, that's all! H-he was too dirty to eat! I-I mean, he wouldn't agree otherwise! I wasn't doing it because I wanted to. I… I had to! For the good of the crew!"

While Mutsu probably thought nothing more of my reaction and the jumbled mess of words that fell from my lips as the flustered reaction of the socially awkward sister that I was, the widening grin across Choshu's expression was far more worrying. Whatever embarrassment she felt from moments ago, she clearly intended to make me pay for it a hundred times over. If the gods had any sense of mercy towards me, something would explode right then and there to take everyone's attention away, but there was nothing. Just that devilish grin.

"Oh my, Nagato, already on the attack? How surprisingly bold of you," she playfully insinuated, accented with a taunting giggle. "You've only known him for a few days and you're already having dinner dates."

"It wasn't a—we didn't—!" The more I tried to get my thoughts in order, the more everything seemed to fall apart. A dinner date? Me? Such an idea was a scandal of the highest order for a high-standing member of the Sakura Empire's kansen fleets, a divine oracle and protector of the sacred tree, and former flagship of the Fourth Combined Fleet.

"Well, he is pretty handsome," Mutsu remarked, nodding in agreement with my counterpart. "It would be nice if he smiled a bit more, though. He always looks so serious, but that's a bit like Nagato, too, isn't it?"

"It's like those two were made for each other."

"B-but I—"

"It's okay, sis, we'll both be cheering you on!" Mutsu grinned as bright as the sun before she shot me a thumbs up, which made her sincerity the only thing more painful than their combined relentlessness.

It became apparent that they weren't going to let up their assault—I had been subjected to aerial bombardments of lesser intensity than this. In my ceaseless mental struggle, my brain latched onto the first coherent thought it could, and I bellowed as loud as I could, "I only did that because he was a filthy man!"

My words at least had the desired effect of putting a stop to any further teasing, as my fellow battleships fell into a stunned silence. Perhaps a bit too silent, I soon noted. After a moment of looking at their silent, wide-eyed expressions, I finally realized they weren't staring back at me, but rather just past me. I peered over my shoulder and saw none other than Captain DeWolf himself standing just a few feet away.

"Did I come at a bad time?" he asked, flatly.

There was no way he couldn't have heard what I had just shouted: there were people on the bridge who probably heard me. Just when I thought I was about to avoid the worst of the embarrassment, it came back with a vengeance, along with its best friend, shame. To speak so ill of a senior officer right in front of him was the height of disrespect. Some of the more cavalier members of our fleet could get away with such tactless remarks, like those in the carrier divisions, but my former position as flagship demanded a level of respectfulness and gentility that I had just thrown overboard.

"C-Captain DeWolf!" I exclaimed, now even more panicked than before. "W-what I said before—I didn't mean it like—that is, to say, I don't think you're—!"

By the heavens, if I didn't figure a way out of this mess, my head would soon explode, or at the very least start a small fire.

"Is there something you need, captain?" Choshu interrupted me. I didn't know if she spoke up in order to save me from saying something stupid, or just to let me continue lingering on the precipice of a mental collapse, but either way it took the officer's attention away from me, so I was grateful for the momentary reprieve.

Captain DeWolf made a few nervous shuffles as he glanced back towards the hatches leading back below deck. "I… uh, I was wondering if I might pick your brain for a moment. I need a kansen's perspective on an… issue," he explained with a thin layer of sheepish reluctance.

"What kind of issue?" Mutsu replied.

"It's Akagi. She's… um, upset."

"What'd you do now?" Choshu asked with a scrutinizing glare.

"Why do you automatically assume it was my fault?"

My counterpart just rolled her eyes. "Because you're the captain, obviously. Responsibility ultimately lies with the senior-most officer."

"Let's not jump to conclusions before we hear his side of the story," Mutsu suggested. "Now why don't you have a seat and tell us what happened."

My sister patted a small clearing amidst our disassembled hardware, to which DeWolf responded with just a bewildered expression. It was probably the first time a kansen's asked him to sit down on the deck to have a chat, which I suspected ran contrary to most of the established norms of etiquette he was accustomed to. One could see the turmoil brewing within him, torn between the requirements of an officer and his situation, but finally he relented and sat down cross-legged between Mutsu and myself. Amongst a trio of petit kansens, he looked very out of place, and the awkwardness he tried to ignore made it all the more apparent.

"Now as you know, the ship took a fair bit of damage from the previous engagement," DeWolf began. "And since we're working with even less than a skeleton crew, we minimized repair operations overnight." This was nothing that we didn't already know, but it was curious that this was the lead-in for his explanation. "I didn't feel right leaving things completely unattended, so I tasked two of my best to dose themselves up on as much caffeine as they could get from the mess hall, and keep an eye on things. I told them to do whatever it took to keep things running."

"Uh-oh," I murmured, filled with a sense of dread as to where this was about to go.

"As it turns out," he continued on, "bored, tea-infused engineers watching over an engine room start to get a little proactive."

"Oh dear," Mutsu sighed upon reaching the same conclusion as I had.

"Now it wasn't anything drastic, but since they don't exactly know your engineering as thoroughly, they got a little inventive, in certain places. I mean, some of the systems are actually working better now than they had been with the previous repair work we had done, but the moment Akagi saw them, she started throwing a fit."

There was a collective sigh from the three of us, and any hope DeWolf had that we might side with him evaporated with Choshu's terse response that summed up our unanimous opinion.

"You're an idiot, captain," she stated, followed by a round of nods from my sister and I.

"Wait, you all—is this that serious?" an understandably befuddled DeWolf replied.

"It's okay," Mutsu reassured him. While she may have been sincere as she patted his head, it nonetheless came across as a little patronizing. "You're a boy. You can't be expected to understand a girl's heart."

"Aren't we talking about a ship here?" One could see his comprehension continue to slip as the conversation carried on, like a child trying to follow a lesson just a little too complex for them. Not that I thought any of us really blamed him for his ignorance—he just lacked the necessary perspective.

"You can't mess with a girl's engine room like that without her permission," Choshu explained, blunt as always. "That's like asking for her age, or her displacement. There's just some things you don't do to a girl, period."

"But the ship was under attack."

"Was. Past tense," she snapped back. "When things are on fire, we can overlook things like permission and privacy, but now that things are safer and back to normal, you've got to respect personal boundaries. An engine is the beating heart of a ship, it's a kansen's most personal and intimate of places. Akagi's been spending the last few days with strange people running around inside her and poking into her every nook and cranny. This ship is as much a part of her as her own flesh and blood. Can you imagine how stressful that can be for a girl? Now you've gone and started making changes without consulting her beforehand. No matter how well intentioned, that's crossing a line, Captain, and frankly you should be grateful she hasn't started throwing people overboard."

There were a couple of different outcomes I expected from DeWolf, based heavily on my personal experiences dealing with officers. The most common reaction was just a continued blank stare of confusion, as if we had just started speaking in a language that only kansens could understand, which was then usually followed by an off-handed remark about how we were making a big deal out of nothing before they return to ignoring everything that had just spoken about. 'Know your place' was not an uncommon sentiment in the Sakura Empire's military culture. Not that I wasn't guilty of perpetuating that mindset. The other frequent response was indignation, as if voicing our concerns and trying to establish personal boundaries was some affront to their gods-given authority as officers. These were troublesome, to be sure, but there were always kansens who were willing to push back when they felt officers were being too aggressive or forceful. Kansens were, if nothing else, protective of our own. Oddly enough, there were few who exemplified that more than Akagi. I think she got that habit from her sister.

If anything, the resultant paperwork and disciplinary hearings were the true bother of an irate officer.

Now I didn't know if DeWolf's response was something unique to him or just a product of his nation's military culture, but his initial confusion turned to reflection. He was seriously considering what Choshu had said, much to my surprise. Beyond that, though, his expression remained consistent as he listened and then began to digest the conversation. Mutsu was right; he didn't smile very much, but there was a certain reassurance about this contemplative gaze.

"When you explain it like that, it's pretty obvious why she'd be so upset. I guess it's easy for a career officer like me to forget that things aren't the same for kansens as they are for enlisted," DeWolf finally concluded after his prolonged silence. With a resigned sigh, he got back to his feet. "Better go find her and start apologizing before she reconsiders her stance on throwing people overboard. I don't suppose you girls have any advice on how to calm down an irate fox?"

The three of us had a quiet chuckle. "Now now, there's nothing to be scared of. It's not like we kansens bite," I reassured him.

"She bit my brother," DeWolf said, pointing to Choshu.

"You could try giving her ears a rub," Mutsu suggested. "A nice ear massage always helps calm me down when I'm feeling anxious."

"I feel like that runs a bit contrary to the spirit of the previous remarks…"

Before the conversation could go any further, the telltale shriek of an irate fox sounded across the flight deck. It had only been a matter of time before Akagi's fury had been redirected by browbeaten sailors to their captain, as it had been DeWolf's orders that ultimately caused this whole incident. I could see the seasoned officer become more and more tense with each approaching step of the Kido Butai's most infamous member. She did not waste any time getting into his face and unleashing a verbal fusilade upon him, hurling enough obscenities to prompt Choshu to clamp her hands down over Mutsu's ears. She railed on about the audacity of DeWolf's crew to 'improve' upon the perfection of the Sakura Empire's engineering, and that their very presence within her machine spaces was tantamount to sacrilege. There were a few threats sprinkled in there as well, not limited to throwing people overboard, but also dropping enough bombs on everybody he knew and cared about until the very earth had been reduced to ash and cinders.

I guess she was more stressed than even I had anticipated.

As much as I wanted to intervene, if only to salvage some modicum of civility amongst us, I was, if I had to be honest, a bit too scared of being caught in the crossfire. DeWolf needed to learn how to handle the more temperamental kansens of the fleet if he were to succeed at his new posting, or at least that's what I told myself to placate my conscience.

Watching DeWolf remain paralyzed in silence, I realized he was indeed as hapless with kansens as his brother had described. Where he could normally fire back with threats of discipline or just throwing the offending perpetrator into the brig, against Akagi he had none of the tools normally afforded to him by his rank. He really was hopelessly out of his depth. He began to look to the three of us in the hopes that we'd at least bring up the discussion we just had, but we all remained silent. The only offering he got was my sister, who gestured to the top of her head.

I watched with growing curiosity as his gaze lingered on Mutsu's rubbing fingertips, then panned over to the top of Akagi's head. I couldn't believe he was actually considering it. Morbid curiosity kept me silent as I deduced that the end results if he went forward would either be something extraordinary, or extremely violent. Either way, it would be best to have witnesses present.

DeWolf's hands began to twitch, no doubt from him growing restless while grappling with his own apprehensions. Suddenly, his fists tightened and his back straightened out—one could see the exact moment he decided to throw caution to the wind. Without even a word, right in the midst of Akagi's furious tirade, he reached up and took an ear in each hand, giving them a slow, gentle massage with his fingertips. What happened next went beyond even my wildest expectations.

The resulting shriek was expected. People below deck probably heard it. Yet I had never heard a cry quite like it, and certainly never from Akagi. I had expected something furious or profanity-laden, but instead it came out higher, more surprised than anything. It was also mixed with something else, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. If I had to guess, it sounded almost like an… excitement. Elated, even. Nevertheless, her cry took everyone by surprise, and not just because she jumped back almost a whole meter at the same time. Mutsu certainly never reacted before with such vigor.

"W-wh-what do you think you're doing?" she stammered. I don't think I had ever seen Akagi so flustered before, so taken completely by surprise. At least she wasn't angry at him anymore.

"Sorry," DeWolf replied, as surprised as everyone else by his tactic's effectiveness. "You just, uh… you looked like you've had a lot on your plate. I was told that that might help with any stress and calm you down."

"Calm? How could I be calm when you do something so amaz—erm, so suddenly?"

"Again, I'm sorry about springing that on you."

"I'd rather you not do that in front of others," Akagi replied, less of a shout and more of a murmur now. "A girl's ears are delicate, you know? Um… what were we talking about again?"

"I was apologizing for what happened in your engine rooms last night," DeWolf carried on. "It was my fault for giving the order; we had no right to be treating your ship as though it was ours, and regardless of our intentions, you should have been consulted on any plans made. You have my word it will never happen again."

Akagi just gave a blank stare for a few seconds before finally collecting herself. "Oh, right. Engine room. Well, you seem… sufficiently repentant, so I'll forgive your transgressions this time." Slowly but surely, my colleague began to look more and more like her old, confident self. "Rest assured, though, I will hold you responsible if we should have a repeat of this conversation. Now if you'll excuse me, I have… um, things… to do. Inside."

As she headed back inside, I couldn't help but notice that her pace was a tiny bit more hurried than it typically was. Maybe she did have important business to attend to, but I had the lingering suspicion that she just wanted to get away from DeWolf for a bit. In fairness, I felt similar after some of my encounters with him as well.

"See? I told you it would work," Mutsu boasted with a smug grin. "But I wonder why she got so flustered."

She looked to me for an answer, but all I could offer was an unhelpful shrug. I had my suspicions, but nothing concrete. My thoughts, however, were more focused on another realization: nobody had ever given me an ear massage before.

I bet they felt really nice…