Chapter Twenty-Five
My thoughts collected in the noticeable absence of the soft and warm embrace of my bed sheets that my consciousness was no longer residing in the safety of the Azur Lane Pacific naval port, but rather delving once more through the memories and experiences of my dimensional counterpart. Without even opening my eyes, I knew where I was: I could hear the clattering of machine work beyond the steel confines that held me, and the faint tones of salt water and crude oil in the air served to remind me that I was still interned in the harbour, as I had been for the past several months. After the Sakura Empire's surrender to the Eagle Union, the naval base at Yokosuka was occupied by the foreign invaders, and I was made a prisoner within my own hull. My warship, the essence of my being, had been left in a state of disrepair during that time, languishing like the broken monument that it now was. A tattered remnant serving as the last symbol of the once great Sakura Empire, which itself was in just as much a chaotic mess as I was, or at least so I had heard. My keepers afforded me few luxuries, after all, so the only news I heard of the outside world came from what filtered through the chatter and gossip of the guards and dock workers, but even that had become a rarity.
When my internment first began, people came by to my battleship almost every day: guards, dock workers, technicians, engineers, researchers, intelligence officers, and even an admiral or two on rare occasions. Normally, they just stopped by my quarters where I spent the majority of my imprisonment, but occasionally a guard would drag me out to the main deck to greet whoever had deigned to grace me with their presence. I grew to loathe them all to varying degrees, but at least it broke up the monotony of the day. The common sailors just viewed me like some kind of spectacle, as though I were an animal in a zoo. I got the impression they never got to spend much time up close to their own kansens, so the chance to speak with one directly was a rare opportunity. They were annoying, but harmless for the most part. The technicians and engineers would often ask questions about the equipment I still had on board; they were polite, but I often got the feeling that whenever I explained something to them, they just smiled and nodded along. Their curiosity felt less driven by a desire to learn and more just a desire to feed their own narcissism, to reaffirm their own conflated sense of superiority. The doctors and researchers I hated the most because they just swept in whenever they pleased and prodded me with strange needles and strange devices, then left without even so much as a 'take care.' Their professionalism was appalling, and I wondered if they treated their own kansens with such a dehumanizing stare.
After a few months, though, the visits became less and less frequent as their interest in me waned. I stopped being a novelty to them, and just another part of the landscape. It eventually reached the point where I wouldn't even see the sailors assigned to guard me unless I went out onto the deck to search for them. Granted, as the months passed, I didn't bother going outside much, either: there was just no need anymore. Once upon a time, I could stand upon the bow of my great battleship, and the crowds of sailors and citizens would hang onto my every word. They would gaze upon me with hope and admiration, and an unwavering belief that I would deliver them the victory that I promised. Now, though, they don't even look in my direction on the rare occasions I went out onto deck. Some even took deliberate measures to look away, like they were ashamed of me, of what I once represented: a stain upon their once noble pride.
As humanity and the world lost interest in me, so too did I stop caring about the world outside my tiny steel box. There was nothing left in it for me; my purpose and pride in life had been taken away, and the people that I once led were either gone, or pretending I didn't exist. My life felt like it was sinking into a cold and crushing abyss. If I were to vanish the next day, would anyone even care? Would a single soul bother to mourn my passing?
I just didn't matter anymore: not to my people, not to the world, and not even to my enemies.
It was as though the world had forgotten all about me.
The western religions spoke about various circles of hell existing to punish people for their sins in life—I wondered how many I must have committed to be locked away in such solitude. With nothing to do except literally watch myself rust into oblivion, it was about as close to an eternal hell as one could get. For a warrior of the Sakura Empire, to waste away into nothingness was a fate worse than death. A true warrior met their end with pride and honour: even Lady Yamato, who was felled effortlessly by the Eagle Union's endless planes, at least met her end in service to her people. At first, such thoughts summoned up a firestorm of hate and fury, and I left more than a few dents in the bulkheads as a result, which in turn would prompt my guards to check in on me and occasionally try to talk me down. One even tried to use an ice cream to placate me, but I threw it right back at him. As the weeks dragged on, though, eventually I couldn't even muster up the motivation to be outraged, and I found myself wishing I hadn't wasted that perfectly good ice cream. It might've been the hunger, but I did find myself wondering if anybody would bring me some if I asked. The Eagle Union supposedly had a ship meant just for ice cream, so surely they probably had it in abundance.
So drained was any sense of motivation that I didn't even react when I heard the rusted groan of the door opening. Whoever was visiting couldn't possibly have any meaningful business, for I was bereft of meaning or purpose anymore—the Union had long since robbed me of it. Maybe if they brought some ice cream I could be bothered to rise out of bed, but beyond that, the only person that could compel me to move would be—
"Did I come at a bad time?"
That voice, which had long since been burned into my soul, would've been met with an instant volley of cannon fire were I still able to summon my rigging. Instead, the harshest welcoming I could provide was just a burning, hate-filled glare at the kansen who now stood in the doorway.
"Bored of your victory already, Enterprise?" I asked, curious as to why she would bother to visit at all. I hadn't seen her since the surrender ceremony, where I had been dragged out, along with the remnants of the empire's leadership, to make the event look peaceful and official. They made a showing to appear respectful as papers were signed and speeches were made, but I knew they had a small contingent of kansens waiting in the wings just in case I stepped a toe over the line. That would be peace with the Eagle Union—an olive branch in one hand, and a gun aimed at you in the other.
"I would've visited sooner, but they've been keeping me busy tidying things up in the aftermath," Enterprise answered. While I was hardly presentable—my hair was likely an absolute cobweb and my clothes even worse—the person before me looked as fresh as a newborn kansen. She had discarded her old coat and blouse, and instead opted for a more practical zip-up tunic and scarf, and she had even trimmed her hair down to shoulder-length. It gave her a cleaner, more modern air, and yet despite the freshness of her new persona, there was a familiar look of a long-standing fatigue in her eyes: something that I could sympathize with easily thanks to many restless nights. "I was in the area, though, and I thought I might pay you a visit: see how you are holding up. I'm told you haven't been eating much lately."
"Since when did you give a damn about my well-being?" I scoffed. There might not have been much fire left in me, but her arrival was like a breath of fresh air on the old embers.
"The war's over," she replied, shutting the door behind her. "Our nations are at peace now."
"Do not mistake peace with quiet, nor my compliance with submission."
I didn't expect to get much of a reaction out of Enterprise, so it came as no shock that she just sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "Still just as defiant as always," she said before finding a nearby chair to take a seat in. She swiveled the crude metal chair about and sat on it reverse, allowing herself to lean forward against the backrest. "Have you been keeping up with the news?"
"What is there to keep up with? My government has surrendered, foreign soldiers now infest my homeland, and there is nothing I can do to ease the suffering of my people. I do not need your propaganda papers to know that." Like with food deliveries, I would occasionally be delivered newspapers, but like much of their 'generosity', I saw it as just another subtle attempt to flaunt their victory. At least the newspapers were absorbent enough for other uses. Still, she would not be asking if she wasn't about to discuss some recent occurrence. "So what has happened that you felt the need to discuss with me of all people?"
"Well, there's been a lot of major reforms in your government lately—"
"You mean your dismantling of the empire."
"Rebuilding your empire," Enterprise corrected me, a faint tone of offence in her voice. "We told you once before: we're not here to destroy your country or take it over, but I guess you still don't believe me about that, do you?"
A part of me began to wonder if maybe she had just gotten bored with post-war life, and just needed to see a kansen flail in a hopeless indignation to get some of that glory she once felt in combat. Or rather, I wanted that to be the case, because then I could justify getting outraged and throwing something blunt and heavy at her head. It would be a paltry excuse for defiance, but for a brief second, I could feel some of that old glory as well. I hated the person before me with every fiber of my being, but I also hated knowing that there was nothing I could do to her anymore, and that this 'conversation' would be the closest thing to an 'honourable combat' I would ever have again in my life.
"You must forgive me then, for I must have been confused by your intentions when you started bombing our cities into oblivion," I shot back.
"Oh, don't try to play the victim here, or should I ask the Dragon Empery to weigh in on this debate." It was working, to a degree. Enterprise wasn't snapping back or shouting her lungs empty, but I could see I was getting a rise out of her. A battle of wills and words could at least be an amusing distraction.
"War is about one nation's might pitted against another, putting everything they have and everything they are on the line. To lose means to have your armies crushed, your cities burnt, and your people dead. That's what you told me before, was it not?"
"That doesn't mean I want to—!" Enterprise almost leapt to her feet, and her hands had clenched so tightly around the frame of the chair she sat upon that I could see the metal twisting beneath her fingers. I hadn't expected such a sudden reaction, but I clearly had hit a nerve with her. No sooner had that burst of ire appeared did it simmer back down with the Union carrier muttering something about 'staying calm' under her breath. "I was very angry back then, Miss Nagato. Wars often bring out the worst in people."
"Was shooting Yaezakura also part of that 'worst' in you?" I growled. She was more than angry back then; she had been bloodthirsty, and at the very least, she could pretend to take ownership of it, rather than brush it aside like it was some kind of heat of the moment mistake.
Rather than answer immediately, Enterprise seemed to be preoccupied with her only brief bout of meditation. I must've been getting under her skin more than I imagined. "I told you before, what I did for her was a mercy," she answered with a forced calmness. "The terms of the surrender were quite clear: the Sakura Empire would no longer be allowed to field or maintain any combat-capable kansens. All of your surviving kansens have been transferred to the other powers, and… well, you know what's been happening to you, and you're getting the VIP treatment."
In a strange, twisted sense, it was hard to deny the truth in her words. I was fooling myself into thinking that Yaezakura could've had a happy, normal life outside of the war, that I could protect her from it by simply denying her essence as a kansen. As long as the potential existed within her, the world simply would not tolerate her presence, and considering how I've felt over the past several months since the surrender, I could only imagine it's been worse for the other survivors. Still, I could not placate myself with the lie that she at least died with honour in service to her empire. She never even got a chance to serve because I robbed her of that purpose thinking I could save her.
"Unless you're planning on murdering more innocents to compel me, don't expect me to show any sort of gratitude."
At least my accuracy with verbal gunnery had not lost its edge, as Enterprise soon took me by the wrist and hauled me out of bed. "Come with me!" she barked, not leaving me any option but to comply as I was unceremoniously dragged out onto the main deck.
Just because I was a prisoner, didn't mean I had to make anything easy for her, and I figured she must've been under instructions not to hurt me because I could still recall how the last time I stoked her ire resulted in a swift and vicious beat-down. Still, I could tell just from how tight she gripped my wrist that she so very, very wanted to show me the bottom of her boot heel again. Once we had reached the bow railing, she shoved me up against it and directed my attention outwards. A surprisingly familiar sight greeted me in the form of the Yokosuka naval yard. However, instead of a crater-filled wasteland, it had been built back up in most places, or was under construction in others. The harbour, once just an empty grave of broken ships and stained black as night with oil and blood, now teemed with activity once more as ships were guided in and unloaded at every available dock, sailing through pristine, unblemished water. And while there were quite a lot of foreign soldiers, it didn't escape my notice that uniformed members of the Sakura Empire's military were mixed in amongst the crowds, along with civilian workers from both nations. I hadn't seen the harbour so alive since the early days of the war, back when hopes and ambitions ran as high as the mountains. If it weren't for my lingering presence, it'd be easy for anyone to forget that there had ever been a war.
I was almost in disbelief at what I saw, although I couldn't let it show on my face. I had spent so much time hiding in my quarters that it almost as though I had woken up to a whole new world.
"What is the point of showing me this? Of course an occupying force is going to repair a naval base," I remarked, although a part of me suspected there was more to the situation than just what I saw. Stubborn defiance forced me to remain suspicious of her, and pride refused to acknowledge any good that might've come from this.
"It's not just the base, Nagato, it's the entire country," an exasperated Enterprise exclaimed. "Your military was so bent on fighting a losing battle that your infrastructure was crumbling, your hospitals were overloaded, and your people were starving. The country was falling apart and your leaders didn't care. Your government failed its people, and we're now here: we're rebuilding your cities, we're feeding your people, we're tending to your wounded, and we're going to help you establish a proper democratic government."
How wonderfully magnanimous it all sounded, I found myself thinking, although I could do little but continue giving her a skeptical stare. "Am I to believe that you're just fixing everything you just broke, and then just… what? Hand power back to the people? Just like that?"
She huffed a bit at my continued skepticism, but I don't think it came as a surprise to her. "Obviously, there's going to need to be a lot of changes in how your government functions, so you don't wind up with a repeat of what happened here," she explained as she leaned against the nearby railing. "That's actually why I came here to talk with you: my superiors are trying to decide what to do with you, and there was a suggestion. Some time in the next month or two, your emperor is going to make an announcement to renounce his divinity, that he's not some heavenly-appointed ruler destined to reign over the world. You are still technically the divine oracle to your big sacred tree—"
"So you seek to quash our faith as well as our armies?" I accused with a harsh glare. I hadn't even seen the tree since my deployment to Yokosuka, so for all I knew, it had been reduced to ash and splinters by the Union bombers.
Once more, though, Enterprise just let out an increasingly frustrated groan. "No, of course not. You can worship that tree to your heart's content, we just don't want you guys to use it as a vehicle to peddle lies to your people," she answered.
"I. Did. Not. Lie!"
"Yes, you did! Knowingly or not, you used your position to convince people to play along with your government's dreams of conquest and a global empire." Realizing she was getting worked up again, the carrier took a deep breath and a short pause to fix some loose strands of hair. "But that's beside the point. You are still the oracle—there are still people who look to you for guidance and reassurance. If you agreed to make a statement alongside the emperor, an admission of guilt for playing an unwitting role in this ordeal, my superiors would be willing to allow you to remain in your position as oracle."
It was true that I was still technically the oracle to the Sacred Sakura, but it was a duty that I had given little thought to in recent years. Once the fighting had started in earnest, the empire needed me far more on the frontline than residing over religious ceremonies. "You said the terms of surrender meant no more kansens," I pointed out.
"No more combat-capable kansens," she corrected. "We'd have to disarm you, and your position as oracle would be almost entirely ceremonial. You'd be a civvie, but we believe people would still listen to you. There's still a lot of tension and anxiety all around, and a familiar, calming voice could do a lot of good in these difficult times."
Me? Restored to the position of the divine oracle to the Sacred Sakura? It was becoming harder and harder to contain my surprise, as I fully expected the Eagle Union to demolish our sacred tree at the first opportunity. It would've cemented their position as the dominant power in our land, so why would they be going to such lengths to allow me to remain as such a public face, after everything I had done to help instigate this war. And why would Enterprise of all people be the one to bring this proposal to me. I couldn't believe it; I refused to believe it. This could not be the action of the same person who shot my friend in cold-blood right before my eyes, who ranted and raved about needing to see me prostrated before her in submission.
"Your words may have been dressed up nice, but I can still see right through you, Enterprise," I scoffed, folding my arms across my chest. "You may act generous and forgiving, but at the end of the day, you're still aiming for the same goal: total domination. You say I can help 'ease tensions'? You just want me to be your mouthpiece to convince the populace to yield and submit!" Yes, this explanation made far more sense to the Enterprise I knew. It was the only thing that made this entire conversation make sense. "Make no mistake, you are no gracious victor, you are just another bloodthirsty invader, and I would rather die than help you force my people to kneel before you! And more important, you killed my friend—an innocent child whose only crime was to be born into this world. I promise you, I shall never, ever, forgive you for your crimes against me and my people! By my honour, I will have my vengeance upon you, in this life or the next—"
I really knew how to get under her skin, like a sliver of bamboo just slowly growing inch by inch, until finally she cried out 'no more'. "Oh, would you just shut up, you insufferable, little gremlin!" she sneered, lunging at me and seizing me by the throat. Her hands began to tighten around my neck as she pinned me against the railing, in full view of the entire dockyard. "I have spent a lifetime fighting you people, and you just keep going on and on about your stupid war, and your goddamn honour. I swear you are all bent on driving me insane with your drivel! I am giving you a way to escape this war, this violence: to stop being a weapon for others. Because you know what happens to weapons when there's no war to be fought?"
As her grip tightened, I could feel my strength quickly draining. Not that I was putting up any resistance. Thoughts began to drift away; my lungs cried out for air; my limbs grew heavy. I was slipping away into that cold abyss. She was so close to ending it…
"You just keep pushing and pushing! Is this what you want, huh? You wanted to see the Gray Ghost once more?" She began to shake me, pushing me further over the railing until I was almost hanging over the harbour. "I could just end it right here and now. Nobody will care—you'd just be another notch on my belt. Is that what you want?"
For a moment, her fingers loosened, as if she wanted to at least hear something from me. All I could muster was a hoarse, barely audible, "At least… I'll die… staring into the face of my enemy…"
Her nails dug into my flesh, and for a brief moment, I thought she would tear my throat out in her rage. A cold, suffocating darkness crept in as the world faded into nothingness. It was a curious feeling, to say the least, and what surprised me most was just how little I felt as my mind slipped away. No fear, no pain… just emptiness…
Needless to say, though, death would not find me that day. Just as abruptly as it began, Enterprise let out a frustrated cry and threw me to the deck. Struggling just to breathe, I could little else but spasm and cough as the carrier strode away.
"If you're not interested in helping us here, then Operation Crossroads can have you."
For a change, I didn't awake to the same shift in realities that were so abrupt it could capsize a careless vessel. Even still, when I awoke to the familiar sights of my own bedroom, I had to take a moment to palm at my neck and check my breathing just to make absolutely sure. With all the crazy things that had been happening in my life lately, nothing was too outrageous. I was fine though, at least physically. Most of the previous times when I awoke after a delve into Choshu's memories, part of the abruptness came from just the full weight of so many emotions hitting me at the same time. Time spent in a dream wasn't necessarily the same as the time passed in the real world, so hours', even days', worth of experiences would flood my body in a short period of time, moreso when the delve ended in an abrupt, emotional shock.
That last experience, though, was less like being thrown about, and more like slipping in and out of sleep. I hoped it might mean that I was becoming more accustomed and tolerant of these experiences, and that I could start waking up feeling more rested in the near future. However, just as I returned to reality more gently, so too did the emotions of those experiences. Like a lingering aftertaste from a fine wine, my mind bathed in a trickle of thoughts and feelings that were both mine and not mine. It was hard to make sense of at first; there was so much emptiness and despair swallowing it all up that I could barely make out the truth through all the noise.
As I sat in bed, parsing over these new experiences, a most curious and lingering sensation kept yearning for my attention. Unlike the emotions I was contending with which trickled through my consciousness like a babbling brook, this new one felt more… alive. It was like a seed that rapidly took root, ever-changing and evolving as it expanded and grew in all directions. It spread upwards into my mind as tendrils gripped at my very heart, feeling it with a growing sense of urgency… of fear.
Though it was the middle of the night, that blossoming dreadful feeling inside me compelled me to my feet and out the door. I didn't even bother to change into an appropriate attire or put on sandals, and just hurried down the corridors barefoot in my nightwear. Clothing wasn't the only thing I took shortcuts with, as decorum got tossed aside upon arriving at my destination as I pounded at the door with enough fervor to threaten cracking the whole frame.
"Mutsu! Mutsu, open up!"
Thankfully, my sister wasn't as difficult to rouse from sleep as I often was. A few seconds later, I was greeted by the yawning visage of my sister, rubbing her eye with a free hand as she gave me a confused, half-awake stare. "Sis, what are you doing here?" she asked through a second yawn. "It's the middle of the night. Is everything okay?"
"I fear things are not. I need to speak with Choshu immediately."
Though curious, she knew when it was time to ask questions and when to do what was asked of her. "Of course, come in," she said as she stepped aside. "She's right over—" Mutsu turned to gesture to the nearby bed, which I presume should have contained Choshu's slumbering form, but instead there was just a heap of sheets. "That's strange. Why would she leave when she was the one who wanted me to stay overnight in the first place?"
Not good. This was not good at all.
"Come! We must seek her out immediately!" I didn't wait for my sister's permission before taking her by the wrist and dragging her along.
"Wait, Nagato! I don't understand," my confused sister, now fully awake, yelped as she desperately tried to keep pace with me. I noted I would have to apologize for my behaviour later, but for the time being I was in too much of a hurry to stop and explain. "Do you know where Choshu went? Is she in danger?"
"I pray that I am wrong, but I believe such is the case on both counts," I answered. Our racing down the corridor attracted the attention of a few of the port's night owls, but we passed by in such haste that even the girls on nighttime patrol could only scratch their heads in confusion while wondering who those fox-eared blurs were. I could've run to the captain, or even just one of the patrols to get help, but I feared that even a few seconds of delay could be disastrous.
"Where are we even going?" Mutsu asked, still confused as to the purpose of my madness. "Why do you think Choshu is in danger? And from who? Is it the Sirens?"
"I fear that she is in danger from herself," I explained as we scrambled down the dormitory stairs. "I had another experience tonight of Choshu's past. There was so much pain, and hate, and anger from it."
"That doesn't mean she's in danger. We know she had a really bad experience in her war, but she's getting better. I just spent all night talking with her about it," a worried Mutsu answered. Despite her skepticism, though, it was hard to miss that once we stepped outside the dormitory, my little sister picked up the pace to the point where I was being pressed to keep up with her.
"Under normal circumstances, I would be inclined to agree, but tonight there was something else that crept in like a rising tide, swallowing up everything in its path." At night, the doors to the infirmary were kept locked, but as we arrived at the front doors, not only had they been left ajar, but there was a deep crevice gouged right where the doors met, as though somebody had just cleaved through the locks in a single, swift motion. "It was despair, Mutsu; a pit so deep and all-consuming that it could swallow the sun, and that feeling was there the day I shot Enterprise, too."
Hate. Fear. Pain. As powerful as they could be, they were still, more often than not, of a transient nature. They were wounds that would heal with time, compassion, and patience, and while they could leave bitter scars and troubled memories in their wake, these things could be worked through. Despair, though, was like an anchor around your neck, constantly pulling deeper and deeper into the darkness, where no light or hope could survive. As kansens, we embodied the hopes and dreams of humanity within our wisdom cubes. They were a source of strength for us, and a guiding light for our deeds, so to give into despair would be to lose a part of ourselves. Without hope, fear becomes panic, pain turns into torment, and hate twists into obsession. All of which leads to desperation, the compulsion to cling to whatever chance of salvation there was, no matter how extreme or immoral it once was. As Akagi said before, anything was possible once you made a person desperate enough.
We hurried through the door, and while the front lobby appeared welcoming at first, we remained on alert. The next hint that something was amiss was when we noticed that the papers, cups, and other office supplies that normally adorned a front desk were strewn across its surface, and upon closer inspection, I saw a just-barely visible foot propped up against the desk.
"Oh my goodness! Sis, look, it's Vestal!" Mutsu exclaimed, who had wasted no time climbing over to investigate. The Eagle Union repair ship was splayed upon the ground amidst scattered papers and pens, and the broken remnants of her chair. "It's okay," my sister reported after a quick examination of the girl, "it looks like she's just unconscious."
I prayed it would not be the case, but it looked like Vestal tried to greet Choshu's unexpected visit and got sent hurtling over the desk for her troubles. At least it would seem that our wayward colleague had some measure of restraint; however, if we didn't find her soon, then this small mercy would become meaningless. As heartless as it sounded, we had to keep moving.
"We cannot help her right now," I said as I gestured for my sister to follow along. "We need to find Choshu before she can hurt anyone else." At the very least, though, it was a reassuring sign that Vestal had only been knocked out. It meant that our wayward sister had not lost herself completely to despair—that a part of her still recognized friend from foe. It wasn't like the time when I lost control and fired upon Enterprise: back then, I couldn't discern which reality was the truth. If we were to have any hope of ending this without further bloodshed, we needed Choshu to still recognize Mutsu and I for who we were.
My choice to favour haste proved to be correct, as when we barreled down the corridors and stormed into Enterprise's room, we found Choshu standing over the carrier's sleeping form with a sword poised high and ready to strike. Even if I had access to my full kansen powers, an infirmary room was no place to start a firefight, so I had little choice but throw myself at her.
"Choshu, stop!" I screamed as I slammed into her, desperately grasping for her sword.
"Let me go!" she shouted back as we both fought for control of the blade. "I have to do this! I need to do this!" Her words were heavy with panic, lacking the poise and discipline that she normally conducted herself with. It was as I feared: desperation.
"No, you don't! This isn't the way!"
"It's the only way!" I was at a disadvantage because I didn't want to risk hurting Choshu, but she clearly had no such inhibitions. With a sharp twist of her upper body, she wrenched her blade free from my grasp, then knocked me aside with a quick elbow strike to my face.
Fortunately, all the shouting and scuffling was enough to wake up Enterprise. She must've been rather shocked to see the two of us fighting over her, but at least she had enough wits about her to realize what Choshu was about to do as the sword raised once more. With nary a second to spare, she flung herself off to the side, landing on the infirmary floor as Choshu's sword cleaved the bed in twain.
"Enterprise, run!" I shouted to her before I threw myself headlong into Choshu. I couldn't hold back now, so I just crash tackled her as hard as I could, which thankfully drove her into the ground while her sword remained lodged in the bed frame.
The two of us began a desperate struggle to gain control over the other, our arms flailing about as we slapped, clawed, and grasped at one another. Somehow in the mix of it all, I managed to grab hold of both of her wrists, and for a second, I thought I could hopefully talk some sense into her while I had her contained.
"Choshu, listen to me, you've got—"
I learned the hard way that just because I had her hands restrained, she was far from helpless. With a sudden burst of strength she just pulled me down and gave me the mother of all headbutts. Having my bell properly rung, I was helpless as she pushed me aside and ran for her sword again. Though my vision was dazed, I saw Choshu pull her blade free and lunge for Enterprise once more. The carrier, hobbled by her injuries, was almost at the door when my counterpart attacked again. This time, it was Mutsu's quick thinking that saved the day as she tackled Enterprise out of the way with a cry of 'watch out!'. The only thing that wound up getting run through with a sword was a most unfortunate door.
"Get out of the way, Mutsu," Choshu growled, forced to take a few seconds to dislodge her blade. "She has to die for what she's done. It's the only way to protect everyone!"
Still somewhat dazed on the far side of the room, I had to reach for the nearest item that could be of use and grabbed an empty lunch tray from the bedside table. As Choshu readied to strike again, I hurled the tin tray with all of my might. I didn't expect to accomplish much with it; her reflexes had been honed to such a degree that she instantly reacted to the oncoming attack and sliced it in half with one swift motion. It did what it had to do, though, and the distraction gave my sister enough time to launch her own attack. Although, for the life of me, I couldn't understand why she thought the best plan would be to grab the bed linen and try to tackle Choshu with it. Maybe she was just as reluctant to hurt her 'sister' as much as I was. On the other hand, Choshu was just as caught by surprise by the unconventional tactic as I was, with her defiant shouts muffled by the sheets as Mutsu crashed upon her.
It really came as no surprise, though, that the blanket didn't hold for very long. Somehow, Choshu managed to get a leg up and kicked my sister off, sending her flying into Enterprise, then just used her sword to cut her way out. There was some rationality to using the bed sheets, though; using anything was better than our bare hands, so I grabbed the next nearest item on hand. Lucky for me, it was a chair, which at least had some reach available to it. I charged in with the chair legs aimed at her, like a horseback warrior with their mighty spear, except it was made of cheap timber and fake leather cushions. It crashed into her with enough force to drive her into the wall, and it even managed to pin her sword arm against her body, where the legs made it nearly impossible to move her weapon free.
"Snap out of it, Choshu!" I pleaded with her. "You're not thinking straight!"
"You don't understand," she shot back as she struggled to break free from her restraints. "I'm not doing this just for myself. This is for everyone!" As her rage grew, a bright light began to coalesce around her form. One didn't need to be a seer to predict her summoning her rigging, which resulted in a forceful blast that splintered the chair and knocked me back a step. "I will protect my people, no matter the cost!"
With her full strength now manifest, there was no further ammunition I had available to me than my words, but even that avenue would be denied as Choshu gave me a solid boot to the chest. I was launched across the room like an armour-piercing shell, and unfortunately for us, her aim was also spot-on because my soaring backside went straight into Enterprise on the far side of the room. For all her heroic deeds and heroism, there was only so much punishment an already injured kansen could take, and while cushioning my landing spared my backside any lasting damage, the same couldn't be said for her. We had both been reduced to groaning heaps on the floor, and I could barely focus beyond the burning pain in my chest. All I could do at that moment was lament my own weakness; if I only had access to my full power, then I could've at least stood up to Choshu.
For the life of me, I couldn't understand why Mutsu refused to summon her own rigging, and instead opted to grab hold of the misguided kansen by the leg. I just got punted across the room, so I was at a loss at what she thought a human ball-chain would do to slow anyone down.
"Choshu, stop!" a desperate Mutsu cried out. She clung to that leg like a child throwing a tantrum, but she proved to be little more than a nuisance as she was casually dragged across the floor. "It doesn't have to be like this. I know this isn't you!"
To my surprise, though, her words did actually get Choshu to stop. Or at least, that's what I thought at first, until she just reached down and flung Mutsu to the side. It wasn't a gentle toss either—there was enough force to clear the width of the room and still slam into the far wall. Mercy, it would seem, had its limits, even towards my little sister.
"That is because I am not just me—I am the right hand of an empire, the embodiment of its will, and the voice of its people!" she bellowed before turning her vengeful eyes towards Enterprise. "They're crying out for vengeance. Our honour demands her blood, and it is my sacred duty to deliver!" With everyone too sprawled on the ground in pain to resist, she took her time marching over to her quarry. Passion drained as she steeled her resolve, with her voice becoming as cold as the weapon in her hand, which slowly raised above her. "Tenno. Heika. Banzai."
Honour. Duty. Vengeance. She was so fixated on those concepts, I was almost beginning to understand why they drove her timeline's Enterprise into such a fury. As I watched my counterpart prepare to deliver the final blow, our eyes met for the briefest of moments. Despite all her efforts to hide behind a veil of stoicism, I could see the flickers of fear, of despair… but more importantly, uncertainty. There was a silent, desperate cry for affirmation, for some sign to tell her this was the right path. She was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to justify it to the rest of us. But how could I stop her without my full kansen powers?
Maybe I wasn't supposed to. Maybe Mutsu had the right idea all along, but she just didn't have all the information. I, alone, stood a chance to break the cycle.
As Choshu brought the blade down with lethal intent, I threw myself into its path, arms outstretched and with an unflinching resolve, which served me well because it came to an abrupt halt just a hair's breadth from my face. If Kawakaze saw me doing something so incredibly reckless and brash, she would never let me hear the end of it.
"What are you doing?" she asked, as if it were somehow not obvious. "Get out of my way, this needs to be done."
"I won't let you hurt her," I replied. It took surprisingly less willpower than I imagined to keep my voice from cracking despite not being able to take my eyes off the blade that wavered close enough that even a heavy breath could have resulted in drawing blood.
"Move! She has to die!"
"No, Nagato!" I snapped back, hoping that using her real name would better catch her attention. "She is our friend and ally. When you first arrived in this world, she offered her help unconditionally to us. Even after everything that has happened to her, she continues to support us."
"She's still an Enterprise: they're all the same!" She was irate now, which was a little worrying because I could see her blade begin to tremble in her grasp.
As she tried to move for a better angle, I matched her step for step. "Yes, and that is why you must stop. She can help you, because she is you, and you are her. You are two sides of the same coin, thrown by a cruel hand of fate." I relaxed my posture, hoping it would show how unafraid I was, how I wasn't aiming to make this a hostile confrontation. "After you and Enterprise first met, she said to me that she saw herself in you. She understands what it is like to suffer so much loss and pain, to define yourself so much by war and conflict that it becomes the only tenet that defines you."
A flicker of doubt crossed her face as Choshu looked at me, then Enterprise. But then, like a body rejecting a virus, her face grimaced as she took a threatening step forward. "No! We are nothing alike! I know you have seen my memories and what she has done. How can you look upon them and be so calm? Where is your soul as a Sakuran kansen? Where is your honour?"
So much hate and anger thrashing around like a wild animal, but I could not allow myself to give in to those same feelings, for I understand that for most animals, such actions were not born of malice, but fear and panic. She was not a lion claiming its pride, but a fox, cornered and alone. "Indeed, I have borne witness to your past, and to all the sins that have been committed in the name of the nations of man. There were times where the weight upon my heart was so great that I cannot help but stand in awe at how you could still fight on after so much. Your pain and grief have become the sword upon which you have struck down your enemies." I paused and looked to Enterprise behind me, who despite the precarious situation remained in her place, lending me silent and unwavering support. "But I am also a product of this world, and I could see your Enterprise through untainted eyes. I saw the same pain, the same grief, the same passion for vengeance so great that not even an ocean could quench those flames. Prithee, Enterprise, if there were no more wars to fight, not with Siren, man, or kansen, what would you do?"
"I…" Enterprise was about to speak, but words appeared to fail her. Behind her steely eyes, I saw much the same conflict that infected Choshu. There was a vulnerability that she was reluctant to bring out, partly out of pride, and out of habit as a leader. All of us have had to put aside doubt and worry in order to present a brave face to our subordinates and friends, so much so that it almost became second nature to us all.
"Please, just listen to your heart and speak what comes," I said in a soft whisper.
After a tense silence with the carrier staring at the floor, her eyes lifted to mine. "I… I don't know, to be honest," Enterprise said. "What does a weapon do without a war?"
Little by little, Choshu began to lower her blade, though she still held it close. Anger began to mix with confusion, doubt seeping in as she recognized those words when the Enterprise of her realm uttered them. "I… I don't…" she said between hurried, anxious breaths. "N-no! I can't! She has to pay! I am a warrior of the Sakura Empire; my purpose is to protect our shores and strike down her foes! This is my sacred duty, handed down to me by the heavens."
I reached out to Choshu, not to her weapon but instead her face, and at first she flinched and pulled away. After a moment to realize my hand had been offered in peace, she managed to maintain an anxious stillness as my fingertips brushed against her cheek. "You are scared—I understand this feeling all too well. Without duty, without purpose, what is to become of us? How does a weapon define itself without an enemy? What is an arrow if it cannot soar towards a target?" I could see the cold resolve in her eyes began to waver, and I took my chance to gently push the blade down and to the side. She didn't resist. "Nagato, I know how much you have hurt, how much you have fought for your home, your friends, and your empire… but the war is over. All that hate, all that anger; they are what protected you, and are what made you so strong that I doubt I could ever rival it, but now they have become your prison. You have become so dependent on the war, that even now you search for an enemy to fight, not because of honour or duty, but because you are too scared of the alternative."
"I-I am not—"
"Yes, Nagato, you are," I interrupted, firm but resolute. "I know because I am you, and I have grappled with this fear as well. It is an uncertain journey through an uncharted sea, but it is one you must make. You cannot stay in the past forever; it is time to let go of it; all of it. The war is over, and it is time for you to come home."
I wasn't sure what to expect in response to my words. I hoped that the moments of uncertainty and hesitation would at least let me get a foothold to reasoning with her. What I got instead was a complete collapse—all the pretense, all the facades, they all just came crashing down like smoldering debris.
"You… y-you don't understand," she replied, her voice quivering between harried breaths. "You don't know. I… I failed them. She took everything. Everyone. They're gone; they're all gone! They just kept killing and killing, and I couldn't stop them!" The last vestiges of her strength broke down. Her sword slipped from her fingers, a hollow clatter ringing out as it hit the floor, and tears now poured down her cheeks like bilge water. "I was supposed to be their leader—they all trusted me—but I couldn't protect them!" The sobs were becoming so overpowering she could barely get the words out. "I tried! I tried so hard to save them, but I wasn't strong enough. I should have been able to save them… I should have been good enough. I just… I couldn't. I couldn't stop them. I couldn't save them!" Whatever words she had left were little more than incoherent babbling at that point, with only the occasional 'I should have' bubbling to the surface.
It didn't matter, though; there was no fight left in her anymore.
I stepped closer and closed my arms around her, pulling her to rest her head into my shoulder where she continued to cry a lifetime's worth of tears.
"It is okay, Nagato," I whispered softly into her ear. I started petting the back of her head with one hand as I kept her close. "We all know you did everything you could. What happened in the end was not your fault."
"But… but why me?" she whimpered into my chest. "Why did I have to be the one that lived? Why did I have to be the one left alone?"
I hugged her tighter. "There is never shame in surviving," I said in direct contrast to the empire's usual teachings. Death before dishonour made for a motivational speech, but it was an awful long-term strategy. It was the mantra of a warmonger, and one I had become increasingly skeptical of. If duty and service to your country and its people was the highest honour, then surely priority went to the preservation of life. "There is no duty more important for a warrior than returning home safely. You have served your people proudly: now it is your duty to rest. To heal."
A brief flare of panic came about her. She struggled for a second to pull away, but she had expended so much of herself that even my hug was too much for her. "I-I can't… what if… I might have to…"
Her words and stammering reminded me of the confrontation in the mess hall when I first arrived at the base. They mirrored the same sentiment that Denver had: the need to be ready at a moment's notice to serve and fight, and the idea that the second one looks away is when everything will fall apart. DeWolf managed to allay those fears with but a few words, and I prayed I could match his success.
"You are not alone anymore, Nagato. We are all here with you, and we shall not leave. You have carried your burden for so long; please allow us to relieve you of your troubles, so you may have the rest you so rightly deserve. You do not have to keep being strong for us."
Little by little, the sobbing slowed, until the girl finally fell silent. "You… you really mean it?" she murmured after several moments. "I can… I can really stop? I don't have to keep fighting?"
"Take all the time you need. We will all be here for you," I reassured her. She wasn't an official member of the fleet anyways, so it wasn't as though her taking some time away from active service would hamper our overall combat effectiveness. And even if that had been the case, I had a feeling that DeWolf would agree with me that she needed time away from her responsibilities. We were humans as much as we were weapons, but she had spent so long as the latter, she had lost touch with the former. Though I was prepared to finally let her go, she took my reassurance as an invitation and just clung to me tighter than before.
"You… you won't leave me?" she whimpered.
"I promise."
A few minutes later, base security would finally arrive. Fortunately for all of us, Enterprise ordered the provosts to stand down, and Choshu was granted a quiet moment of respite rather than being hauled away in shackles. Once more, I was in awe of her compassion and mercy, but as had been said earlier: she understood the pain that the wayward Sakuran was going through. When Vestal arrived a few moments later, she naturally had a fit over the state of the room and how we were all interrupting the recovery of her patients. Despite all of her authority, the only thing Enterprise couldn't countermand was an irate medical professional, who promptly ushered her to a new room and back to bed. It wasn't too long afterwards that Captain DeWolf came rushing into the room. I knew he had to have sprinted across the base, even without seeing how short of breath he was. Hopefully, his fears and worries were eased when he arrived to find my sisters and I huddled on the floor. My troubled counterpart, drained of all emotion and energy, had since fallen asleep with her head resting upon my lap.
"Enterprise tells me you have the situation under control," he asked, polite enough to just stay in the doorway and keep his distance. "Is she… I mean, will she be okay?"
"Not every life lost in war is from a bullet or disease," I answered. "And not every one who lives comes home." I glanced at her slumbering form and gently brushed her ear. It twitched for a moment, followed by a gentle, peaceful murmur. Though I am certain she slept most nights, this was probably the first time in many years she's been able to rest. "Sir, would it be too much to ask if you could… overlook this unfortunate incident? I know for sure that, once awake, Choshu will apologize for the trouble she has caused, for both you and Enterprise."
DeWolf looked conflicted. He had a responsibility to the whole fleet, but also the individuals within it. He had no reason to believe that Choshu might not have another incident, but I prayed that he could at least trust my judgment enough to grant my request.
With a reluctant sigh, he replied, "I'll… think on it overnight."
Better than I feared, at least.
"You girls probably shouldn't stay here," he continued, gesturing to the disheveled remains of the room. There wasn't a single piece of furniture or decor that hadn't been knocked over or broken apart, and while Choshu was clearly comfortable on the floor, if I stayed much longer I would start losing sensation in my feet. "Do you need any help with her?"
While it wouldn't have been impossible, it was a nice offer, and Mutsu and I were still sore from the fighting. "If you would be so kind as to carry her so we may return her to bed," I suggested.
He nodded, and then came over to carefully scoop the slumbering kansen into his arms. Thankfully, it didn't disturb her from her rest, and she nestled into her new environment without fuss. DeWolf took the lead as we all walked back to the dorms, and while a few kansens lingered in the open to watch, nobody approached us. No doubt many of them were wondering where the captain was to be walking back to the dorms being followed by two young kansens who were still in their sleepwear, a fact which I didn't realize myself until we stepped outside. Without the adrenaline rush, the thin robes left me exposed to the evening chill. I was grateful that we were all too focused on what happened to worry too much about what some of us were wearing. Still, by the time we made it back to Mutsu's dorm and the captain was tucking Choshu into bed, I was fighting down shivers and anxious to return to the comfort of my own room.
"I'll walk you back," DeWolf said once Mutsu and Choshu had settled back in bed. I was curious why he would offer considering it was just down the hallway, but I figured he had his reason. Once we were in the corridor, those reasons became apparent. "I need you to be honest with me, Nagato: is she going to be okay?"
It was an expected question, but not a conversation I wanted to have in the corridor, so when we arrived at my dorm I gestured for the captain to follow inside. Once I closed the door behind us, I was a bit more comfortable speaking my mind. "For the sake of transparency, I must confess that I do not know for certain, but I am optimistic," I said with a heavy heart. Growing more tired, I took a seat on my bed. "Choshu has defined and prided herself on her status as a warrior, but now she sees it as her greatest shame. She is lost. We can offer support and comfort, but only she can find the new purpose she needs to give her life meaning."
"Is that… really necessary?" he asked, half-confused and half-bargaining.
"Purpose? Very much so," I answered. "We are kansen, sir; we are not products of chance or accident. I do not believe we differ much from humans in our desire to have purpose: be it a leader in a community, a member of a family, or simply a weapon in an arsenal." Before I thought we kansens had it easy: knowing our purpose as weapons brought with it a comforting security. Now, though, I was beginning to realize that I could not just define myself by what I was as a kansen, but as a human as well. That second part, though, remained elusive for us who had so little experience living as one. "Tell me sir, what do you see us as? Are we simply weapons to be used and discarded as the war needs?"
"No, of course not," DeWolf said without even a moment of hesitation. "You are far more than that, and even after a few days it's easy to see that you're far less of a military cog than I am." He let out a tired groan, likely exhausted from long hours in the office and the ever-mounting pile of issues that demanded his attention. I doubt anybody expected managing a base of kansens to be so demanding of an officer. Without any thought about how it might come across, he suddenly dropped onto the bed beside me, hunched over with head resting into one palm. "I guess that's our fault, though—humanity, I mean. We created a bunch of living weapons without thinking about the possible ramifications of bringing in new life for a sole purpose."
"Please do not think that any of us resent you or humanity for that," I insisted, offering him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "We have been given an experience that we would never otherwise have been able to. For all of its troubles, I have always thought it a blessing to be able to live as a human, to experience the world as you have. I will always be thankful for that, even if our existence is temporary. Choshu has lost sight of her purpose, but she is resilient. I have faith we can help her find it again."
The captain breathed a bit easier now. He seemed more worried about the matter than I had expected. "Well, I'm counting on you and the others to help her however she needs it."
"Perhaps, but I think you could be of help to her as well."
"You… think so?" a puzzled DeWolf replied.
I nodded. Choshu had suffered greatly, and had been left with guilt for surviving, and doubts about whether she 'deserved' it, both of which I suspected were things that DeWolf had grappled with as well. However, since I only knew that because Akagi had spied on his conversation with his brother, I couldn't let him know how much I knew, so I had to take certain liberties with my response.
"She is still a warrior at heart, and she will no doubt find comfort and certainty in the structured military hierarchy. As her captain, you can be that foundation she can rely upon—her port of call in the storm."
He tensed up for a second, rising to his feet suddenly thereafter. "I… uh, I don't…" he stammered at first. "I don't think that's a good idea," he murmured, although I wasn't sure which of us that message was intended for. When he turned and looked at me, his eyes widened for an instant. It was as if he only just realized he was standing in the bedroom of a young woman who also happened to be in her nightwear. "I… I think I should go." He didn't wait for a response, and he was out the door before I could even start to feel embarrassed about how I had been presenting myself. While I appreciated that he quickly realized how awkward the situation could be, I was still puzzled by his reaction.
Something just now had bothered him, and it wasn't how I was dressed.