"Here you go."
"Thanks."
"..."
"..."
"What, so, no comments? Nothing about 'so the prodigal son comes crawling back, asking for forgiveness?'"
"Nah, nothing like that. I'm glad you've returned."
"... I would reply back with banter, but this is so uncharacteristic of you I can't help but feel mildly concerned."
"I suppose that the chairman's heart is still capable of bleeding. So sue me if bureaucrats have feelings."
"Some jobs have a prerequisite of not having any feelings. Number one would be retail service. Number two would be politicians. And then bureaucrats."
"How about you, then?"
"Me? I'm a cog in this great machine. I whine, I complain. I put out work, I get the grease. As long as I breathe and do what the bigger cog tells me to do, everyone's happy. Ye?"
"... You know, hearing that from you makes this all the more depressing."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Tell you what, take a paid leave. Go see your family like you've wanted to."
"I can't tell if you're serious or not."
"I am. Take two weeks. We're not in any particular rush right now, but I feel like you need the break."
"... I mean, thanks. But I feel like this came out of the blue. What's the ulterior motive?"
"None whatsoever. Enjoy your break."
"We both know that's absolute bullshit, but alright. I'll see you in two weeks."
"... and in two weeks, maybe I can clot the bleeding in my heart."
—
As with all species in new environments, the goal is "adapt or die." The commander did not flourish in his new surroundings, but made some sort of rough daily schedule. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner at specified times throughout the day. It was at these times he slowly got to learn everyone's names, preferences, and flaws. Laffey would sit swing by occasionally, bearing friends. Javelin, a destroyer from the Royal Navy. A dreamer. She could easily hold a conversation by herself. Most likely to make a suggestion. Nothing against her, but he felt mentally exhausted after spending an hour with her chatting. He felt lost trying to follow her leaps and jumps which could go from the temperature of the hot spring to the texture of the yolk in soft-boiled eggs to other minutiae. Just smile and nod, smile and nod.
No slights against her. Just a mismatch. So it was that he and Javelin were mere acquaintances.
Z23 of the Ironblood was studious, serious, and the straight-man who grounded all of their whims in reality. She kinda reminded him of his past self. If his past self didn't constantly ground down his friends with a condescending attitude. But by no means was she emotionless. She did all the worrying for the group and kept everyone on the straight and narrow. Her friends called her Nimi.
Ayanami. Quiet and distanced, but still an integral part of the circle. He never could find out any more than that. When the sidewalk was too small for all of them to walk side by side, she'd be walking behind them a few paces behind, listening intently to whatever conversation Laffey or Javelin had spurred but never giving her own opinion unless asked for. But she was never excluded from anything. Always welcomed. The commander was slightly envious of that fact.
This was the power quad who sat most often with him at mealtimes. But that was it. He wasn't sure what he expected. To grow a harem in this base full of women? Wishful thinking, at best. Takao said hello and Atago gave a hug whenever they passed by, but nothing further. Belfast was nothing but professional. The other maids from the Royal Navy may not have been professional in their duties, but they maintained a professional attitude. So this was where the commander found his niche: reticent and aloof. But his heart still yearned. Not with carnal lusts, but emotional fulfillment.
Things finally began to progress with the notification of enemy patrols sighted near a coastal city. Azur Lane acted as a sort of global Coast Guard 2.0, serving to protect the civilians as best as they can with the Siren threat at large. The commander thought this was quite stupid, but his job was not to question orders that were inefficient. He sent a small force to intercept and destroy it.
Many of the ships were curious about his strength in strategy. They needn't have bothered. His military strategy was solid at its foundations. The patrol was grouped up and uncoordinated, and it took minimal effort on his part to set up a flank and finish them off with only glancing blows. Any simpleton could have done it.
So it was like this the days passed. He did the duties requested of him, and life went on. So why was it that he grinded his teeth at night? Why was it that nothing gave him satisfaction anymore?
He wanted someone to talk to. Someone to unload all of his burdens on. But then he'd see the carefree expressions of everyone, unburdened by self-set expectations and childish needs. It wasn't their job to hear the whinings and self-doubts of their commander. They were already doing more than he would ever do, by putting their lives on the line while he got to cozy up in his office, safe and sound. No, this was a burden only he could hold.
—
Breakfast. The commander kept odd hours for his meals, so often he'd enter once everyone was finished and began whatever they did on the off-time. But during meals the conversation wandered to a variety of topics. The latest boasts in the last battle, the latest drama between the Eagle Union and the Sakura Empire, and of course, the mysterious commander who kept to himself.
"You know," said Javelin one day at a table. "I thought once we had an official commander, he'd be present in every single part of our lives. But nothing's really changed. We just have someone to tell us what to do in combat."
Z23 thought. "You're right. I never really see him outside of the canteen and his office. Or any other facility, really."
Ayanami nodded with this assessment. "I wonder if he doesn't feel like he's welcome…"
"His body's warm," Laffey added helpfully.
Everyone looked at Laffey with great confusion. She shrugged and took a sip of cola.
Javelin clapped her hands together. "I know! Why don't we have a party for him?"
Ayanami considered the idea. "A party would sound nice…"
Z23 wondered, "What would we celebrate? 'We thought you were lonely so we decided to hold a party in your honor so you could feel a little less lonely?'"
Javelin considered that. "I mean… it's been like a month since he started as our commander, so we couldn't celebrate that either…"
"Laffey thinks we can celebrate his tenth victory. Wasn't that just yesterday?"
Z23 nodded. "And he didn't suffer a single casualty! A good reason to."
And so it was settled. Word began to spread through the four major factions. Each leader listened to their request and approved it. Truth be told, they were also curious about the invisible commander of their base who led them well in battle. Preparations began from under his nose. Everyone was concerned that the surprise would be ruined by some overheard whisper, but there was nothing to worry about.
Those gifted in the culinary department began to cook up a feast. Plenty of food representing all sorts of traditions around the world, as well as a large cake. Those who couldn't cook began decorations, planning, and other sorts of logistics. The materials that weren't found on base had to be purchased through Akashi's store. Souls were exchanged for these things (or so the said soul-sellers complained). Alcohol was purchased, then had to be repurchased once they were all drunk in a single sitting by a couple alcoholic individuals. A few made discreet plans that were of not a benevolent nature.
And thus, everything went underway with no problems.
—
Rap rap rap.
"Come in!" said the commander from his office.
The door opened and gushed out four excited destroyers. The power quad. He wondered what brought them here at this odd time at night. He might've thought there was a sort of emergency at hand if they weren't positively glowing.
"Commander! There's something we need to show you!"
He looked down at his half-completed after action report, which he made zero progress on for the past two hours. "Could it wait a moment?"
Instantly, all four pouted with disappointment. He figured he wasn't going to complete his red tape anytime soon. Perhaps a walk would do him good. "Alright, alright. Lead the way." What was it that was so important? Fireflies? A pod of dolphins? Turtle hatching? In any case, Ayanami and Javelin grabbed him by the wrists and began to drag him along, impatient with his sedated pace. They rushed past the fountain, past the canteen, and to the shore, a distance away from the port. Only then did they release his aching wrists.
He panted for breath. Never had he had to sprint such a distance since middle school. "What was… so important… that you had to drag me out… here?"
He looked up. The lights turned on. There, on the beach, was the entire fleet. He looked back to the four destroyers, who were smiling just as merrily as the rest of the fleet.
"We wanted to thank you for all your help in guiding us, commander," Z23 said, smiling.
He was stunned.
"Thanks for taking care of us," said Laffey.
His mouth was agape.
"Just know we're always here for you, Shikikan." Ayanami smiled.
He teared up a bit, but wiped it away. But try as he might, they didn't stop. They kept pouring down, and the more he wiped at them, the more they came. He didn't feel particularly sad. But seeing everyone here, meeting for him and preparing all this to celebrate him… it loosened a faucet in him he didn't even know he had. It was like this, him bawling out his eyes in front of everyone, making memories that would haunt him in bed twenty years down the line, that he found relief.
—
Despite the emotional outburst in the beginning, the party went ahead with full force. While the commander was definitely introverted, it helped that the kansen had no problems with talking with him. So he could sit on the outskirts of the party, nursing a cup of fruit punch, and have no problems with people approaching one by one. By its sharp taste, someone probably spiked it with some shitty alcohol, but he didn't mind. He'd never gotten drunk before. First time for anything.
He still felt very embarrassed about breaking down in front of everyone, but with the constant reassurances from everyone, it set his critical mind at ease.
First came Takao and Atago. Atago instantly gave him a bear hug, nearly knocking over his drink in the process.
"Shikikan!" Atago declared.
"U-uh, yes?"
"I promise you that you'll always have me in the future. Okay? Don't forget about me." Atago whispered into his ear. While it could be read as her usual affectionate older sister voice, it sounded strained. As if she was ashamed of herself for not being the great elder sister she prided herself on being. Takao stood to the side, but she also had a cocktail of mixed emotions.
He smiled wanly. "I'll be sure to remember it. Partly my fault for trying to carry the burden by myself."
"We are here to serve you, Shikikan," Takao added. "Please, seek us for guidance whenever you have troubles."
Something twisted inside him. On one hand, he was glad for their offer. They were all here for him. They all cared for him. So why did he crawl deeper into his psyche? Perhaps it was because there were several odd hundred kansen who existed simply to serve him. This level of devotion was not deserved, but rather owed someone of his standing. And did he really deserve to be the commander? Sitting in his office, playing chess with others' lives? It weighed on him.
And he wanted to take the first step. Burst out his thoughts to these two sisters, and rest his mind easy. But it was easier said than done. Just smile and nod, and swallow those words which cursed his mind. And seeing Atago's and Takao's shoulders ease put his own at ease somewhat, too.
Some asked him for a dance, when the music began to play, but he denied each offer. He didn't feel much like embarrassing himself in front of everyone with only his middle school experience of dancing. And there, clutching his half drunk cup of possibly spiked punch, he felt nauseous. The heat was stifling. And watching everyone eat, drink, and dance without a care made the bile rise to his throat involuntarily. He didn't understand either, but he excused himself and moved to a quieter, emptier part of the beach.
—
The seaside scent and chill did its best to drown out the noise of merriment and music a few hundred yards away. Sitting in the sand, the commander had nothing on his mind but watching the waves ebb and flow, watching the ocean approach his boots and go away. The moon was lit halfway, hovering over the horizon on the cloudless, starlit sky.
The punch had been ditched, and the ocean breeze and smell did him good to clear his mind. And he felt at ease, away from everyone else.
Footsteps in the sand. The commander looked up to see the leader of the Ironblood. Bismarck. She was in her usual uniform, but her cap was in her hands rather than on her head.
"Mind if I sit?" she asked.
He nodded mutely, and she seated herself in the sand. And they both looked out towards the sea, in silence. The commander snuck glances towards Bismarck, as if to wonder her purpose in following him here, but she seemed entirely content with watching the night time horizon.
Finally, she broke the silence. "Have you heard of my sister? Tirpitz?"
He nodded. He dealt with her several times, but their exchanges have always been brief, and professional. Only business and work.
She continued. "She spent much of the war between Azur Lane and the Crimson Axis stranded in the Arctic. And there, she had no duties to fulfill. The Royal Navy had her cornered, so all she could do was remain at port and weather out the constant bombings. And so all she could do was think. Think about her constant circumstances, think about the progress of the war, and thinking about herself. The war ended without her ever leaving port."
He nodded, but wondered what this story had to do with anything.
"As you know, we Ironblood abhor weakness. It is by our own strength we fight, without relying on others to secure our objectives. Tirpitz is the epitome of our code. Yet… even the interactions between me and her are always so cold. We are siblings, but she treats me like any other superior. Cold, and distant. Between you and me, Kommandant, it breaks my heart. And she's content where things lie at the moment. And this hasn't changed for quite a while. And you know why I'm telling you this?"
He had a sinking feeling in his heart, but he nodded.
She was looking at him now, straight in his eyes. Her stare was mildly sympathetic, but her icy cold gaze still made him avert her eyes. "Yes, it's quite obvious I'm drawing a comparison between my dear sister and you. But unlike Tirpitz, you don't have the fortitude to let things lie as they are. Your strategy is better than all of us here. But it won't matter if your future state makes you incapable of commanding us. If your weakness threatens our lives at stake, the Ironblood will no longer be willing to recognize you as our Kommandant."
His hands tightened into fists, and his jaw clenched.
"I hope you take this to heart, Kommandant. It would be a shame for us to lose such a talented mind like yours." She stood up, patted the sand off her clothes, and began to make her way back to the party, which had still not lost any of its inertia since he left.
After she was out of sight, he curled his knees into his chest, and started to bite his nails. The tide went in, and went back out. The cloudless sky with its half moon looked back at him, judging him. And it was everywhere. Complete.
