"Ah, welcome back. How was your break?"
"..."
"Not too great, huh?"
"No, it's not that. I was just thinking."
"Do entertain me."
"Not really thoughts to say out loud."
"Perverted ones?"
"Perverted ones are much more appropriate to say out loud than melancholy ones. Especially in the presence of a person of your standing."
"Ouch. That one actually stung a bit. Do you really think so low of me to arrest all logic for passion?"
"Perhaps. Certainly don't know you as well as some of the candidates I've scouted."
"How is that so?"
"These candidates… I mince them up into their lesser elements. Their IQ. Their tests. Their recommendations. Their past achievements. Their personality tests. Their disorders. Their quirks. But the sum of its parts are nowhere close to the actual thing. But better than just knowing someone of a surface level."
"I'd like to think that we know each other much better than on a surface level."
"Perhaps. But people wear masks all the time. I don't think you're any exception."
"I've been nothing but honest to you during our entire time of knowing each other."
"I never said anything about dishonesty. People have honest masks as well."
"I feel like you're overstepping your bounds here."
"I suppose I am. The one time I tried to say the first thing on my mind, I get denied. Me and you, we're both full of baloney, eh? Not to worry: it won't happen again."
—
The commander couldn't sleep that night. He wasn't sure who he hated more: Bismarck, for laying out the facts like that, or himself, for making it true. It made the whole night leave a bitter taste in his mouth, more bitter than the punch he consumed. But soon he exhausted himself entirely from his tossing and turning, and fell asleep.
Usually he had no dreams. He closed his eyes, and opened them. It didn't make him feel particularly more energized, but he'd fall asleep during the day without it. Still, reliving moments of his past during his sleep were never pleasant. Just let him go unconscious for several hours a day in peace.
But even his waking was none too peaceful either. He roused himself to an early morning which let in the unholy light into his room at an hour which made his head pound. He moaned, and stuck his head under his covers. But the direct sunlight was powerful enough to go straight through his duvet and his eyelids to light his brain aflame. He wasn't sure if the throbbing headache came from the punch or from the lack of sleep. Either way, he wanted the blinds closed.
Grimacing, eyes closed as much as possible, he tumbled off of his bed, closed the blinds, and collapsed back in bed in one fluid motion. Someone cleared her throat.
He narrowed his eyes outside the protection of his cover to see who it was. After recognizing the figure in the darkness, he groaned and threw his duvet back over his head.
"Belfast, I thought I told you to not enter my room."
"Ordinarily, that'd be the case," she agreed, not moving from her position. "But in this case, duty calls." He looked again to see a dreaded file in her hands. He groaned, and made preparations. Not before shooing out Belfast. He was still able-bodied. He didn't need to be coddled to get changed.
—
Wincing and clutching at his head, the commander made his way to his office, and booted up the simulation. It was a machine made with the most revolutionary of technologies, by creating a perfect hologram of any part of the world in real-time. Naturally, as an object of such high sophistication, it broke and glitched quite often.
He swore under his breath and knocked the machine a couple times with his fist. Percussive maintenance. And eventually the thing fizzled to life. He looked at the scenario. Simple. From the comfort of his office, all he had to do was create formations, send them in a direction, and at what time. It was all very intuitive. He didn't bother with combat specifics. It wasn't his job to tell them how to fight.
By battle's end, he slumped back into his seat. His headache was no better than when he first rolled out of bed. A flawless victory. It was easy enough to abuse the enemy's mistakes. People have always asked how it felt from his perspective. He equated it to playing chess with a child who only knew the fundamental rules. Perhaps the child would look solid in the first moves, but soon everything would come crashing down and he'd exploit every single mistake the kid would make. For victory, nothing was sacred.
It was also a zero-sum gain. For every victory he scored, his opponent would suffer for it, whether it be a blow to his score or pride. Was it his right to take from those who couldn't fight back? Every sweet victory was stained with the bitter aftertaste of these thoughts. All for his pride built upon salt.
Idle thoughts were soon overwritten by the pressing pain pounding behind his eyes. He went to his bottle of ibuprofen, but a knock interrupted him. Belfast entered, holding a tray of food.
"You missed breakfast. I suggest you have some food before taking those."
He considered it, but downed the pill anyways. "It all goes to the same place. Thanks, by the way," he added, and dug in.
He only got to savor the first few bites before another person rapped on the door. A red kitsune.
The commander wiped his lips, composed himself, and stood up. "Ho, Akagi. What brings you here?"
She looked warily around and spied Belfast being inconspicuous in the corner. "Do you have any unfinished business here, Shikikan?"
Belfast got the unsaid message and quietly left the room, letting the door shut behind her with a click.
Akagi turned back to the commander, with her signature smile. Some have said that it was chilling or frightening. The commander personally thought there was no way someone could keep an honest genuine smile all day long. But perhaps it was because people and kansen were made of different stuff.
"Shikikan, how has your day been?"
He rubbed his temple and looked at his rapidly-chilling breakfast. "Quite mediocre, to be honest." At least his headache was finally starting to subside.
She moved to his side. The commander was not short, but some of these kansen were massive. Aircraft carriers and battleships and battlecruisers all had a good several inches on him. Akagi was no exception, his cap on his head only reached to her nose.
She also appeared to have no concept of personal space. Since he was an introvert, the normal personal space bubble had to be extended by another arm's length. Akagi chose to ignore this pressing detail and stand right behind him, dragging a finger up and down his arm. Every muscle in his body went taut. He could only wonder what she was doing. Her touch was unwelcome, but he couldn't really pull away. Her body and her tails surrounded him on all sides like flower petals. He absently wondered if this sensation was that of prey before getting devoured by a python.
"Akagi, what are you doing?" he finally asked after several minutes of this… grooming procedure.
"I'm tending to you, Shikikan. Do you not like my affections?"
"I'm just a bit uncomfortable."
She immediately pulled back, her tails shrinking away. He felt bad, but he had spoken the truth. Were it to be some destroyer, maybe he could chalk it up to child-like baby love, which he could easily pull away. But the pride and figurehead of the Sakura Empire? It made him paranoid.
But her presence became overwhelming once again. "You'll grow used to it soon, Shikikan. No one has been able to resist my love for long."
He was coaxed back into his seat, and Akagi did nothing but give him her fullest attention. But his mind was elsewhere, wandering. He didn't feel particularly comforted in the slightest. But he let Akagi do as she pleased. She must've been enjoying all the soft caresses and sweet nothings she freely gave away, so he just bore it. It wasn't his first time that he'd participated in a one-way street. It likely wouldn't be the last.
Whatever Akagi's intentions were, he wasn't really in the place to deny her. So he awaited the outcome like a lamb to slaughter. But at last she was satisfied, and punctuated it all with a gentle kiss to the cheek. And he neither pulled away nor warmed up to it.
Apparently this was apparent to Akagi, because she completely pulled away with a scowl. "How disappointing," she hissed. "To think a commander would return nothing after a maiden shows her heart."
He blinked, as to process the information. "I don't see what my response has to do with this. You wanted this."
Her angry glare slowly morphed to a resigned polite smile. "Ah, I see. I guess you still don't understand the implications of my gesture." Strangely, it was this smile that sent the chill up the commander's back rather than the venomous look a few seconds past.
He looked down at his cold breakfast, breaking eye contact. "I don't see what's so cryptic about assault and battery."
"Then I was a fool to come here in the first place. To think I'd try and succeed in having anything more than a professional relationship between us two," she said, quietly.
His tone turned bitter. "That's funny. Imagine doing whatever you want for ten minutes and still feeling sore about it when you learn that the thing you've worked so hard for turns out to be worthless. Story of my life."
Akagi turned away. "We're both fools today. But it seems like only one of us is content to remain that way." She sniffed, and went out. The door clicked, but did not fully close.
It was only when the sound of quick footsteps went away did he finally dare to look up. The commander wasn't quite certain of what happened. It all felt like a dream. The breakfast he had didn't seem all the appetizing anymore, and he felt his eyes drooping. He fumbled with the blinds and collapsed into the sofa in his office, not even bothering to kick off his shoes. Strangely enough, he didn't have any trouble falling asleep this time around. His sleep was dreamless.
