U/N: So apparently this is a series of canon omakes, although it seems more to me like a side-story to this story., but whateva. It may start similarly to the omake back in the earlier collections, but stick with it and you'll see how it changes.
A/N: Time for an canon Omake from Old Iron over on SB. This, and others like it by him, are canon unless they specifically contradict something I say. (And at the moment his writing takes place in the future relative to mine.)
A Certain Lady Part 1
By Old Iron
"Her birth had been celebrated. Hailed as peerless, donning arms of thunder and armor of titans. Her life had been mediocre. Training for battle, yet never once firing her guns in anger. Her deeds had been few. A rescue, a film, a glorified deterrent and tour guide. Her death had been wretched. Rent asunder and left to a slow, agonizing end. He-" The man's voice was cut off abruptly as the rather thick tome which had served as the source of his oration was plucked rather forcefully from his hands. He looked up towards the source of the theft with a baleful gaze, one not so different from his usual visage were one to ask any number of his contemporaries. A small squeak came from the door before it slammed shut with no small amount of haste.
"Sir, stop glaring. You're going to give someone a heart attack." A feminine tone, low and with an undercurrent of constant exhaustion cut through whatever complaint the man behind the desk was about raise. The plundered book was thrust forward towards his face and came quite close to flattening his nose. With a sigh, he slumped back into the highly subjective comfort of his chair and waited for the voice's owner to continue. "And how many times have I asked you to not read such romanticized garbage?"
"I've given up counting if you really want to know how often." The remark was not quite snide, but certainly not the most amused. This early hour was not one that brought out his good side. He crossed his arms as he finally took in the sight of the woman who so often barged in on his down time. Tall and with the build of a boxer, the copper haired woman seemed to radiate a kind of never ending tension. It was hard to tell whether it was the caffeine she consumed almost non-stop or just a state of self inflicted hyper-awareness. He supposed the fact she rarely ever seemed to sleep might have something to do with that. The dark rings under her eyes would at least attest to the notion.
"One hundred and thirty two." She intoned flatly whilst setting the heavy book onto the desk with a gloved hand. Both it and her other hand were covered in heavy gloves that led into the sleeves of a well worn, but still well cared for navy blue longcoat. The man guessed that any number of the excuses she could give to explain adorning herself with such a coat regardless of the weather worked. However were he to put money on it, he'd say it was to keep prying eyes away from the fact a fairly significant portion of her left arm and no small amount of her flank on the same side bore a considerable number of not insignificant scars and starburst shaped burns. It was rare for a someone to hang onto their old wounds when they returned from whatever beyond they came from, but she was one who did.
His reasoning for cover didn't account for the portions that crept up her neck and cut into her jawline, but there was only so much the red and gold colored handkerchief tied around her neck could hide.
He glanced down at the abused book for a moment. It was indeed romanticized garbage when you really came down to it. A dramatic and heartrending tale about Pearl, or so this particular novel claimed. Hard to tell when you were still reading the prologue. And he did like reading that kind of drivel every now and then. An escape from this utterly mad world that didn't involve court-martial or likely related ludicrously regrettable vices. The woman's ire when she caught him reading such things was regardless quite understandable. Especially given the subject matter of this one in particular.
After all, he imagined he'd be none too pleased if he came across his own death being retold in such a glorified manner. Others... were not him. Some of the girls had actually taken quite a liking to hearing how their respective ends were depicted. Morbid, sure. But everyone had an opinion. And a few had taken it as motivation.
Battleship Arizona was not one of them.
She did not find it insulting, nor did she find it educational in some bizarrely fantastical manner. When he'd finally managed to get an answer out of her normally tight lipped self, she'd stated she found the hyperbole laden stories to be embarrassing and humiliating. Not in those words exactly, but the sentiment was certainly there. If ever some of the other girls from Pearl graced their little fleet, he guessed they might be of similar opinion. Maybe.
"Sir?"
He waved his hand and brought himself back into reality. No more time for idle musing. He had work to do and plenty of it.
"When was the last time you got some rest?" The man with admiralty boards on his shoulders finally groused out as he sat up. He reached out and grabbed both pen and paper, ignoring the woman's tired glare. Looks like it might time to have the base doctor throw her weight around a bit. Again. Hopefully without accidentally terrifying everyone in a fifty mile radius. Again.
"I don't have time to sleep. There's too much that needs to be done." She hated sleeping. The last time she took a nap that lasted too long, she was awakened by fire and death. Her alarm clock had been the screams of aircraft, the howl falling ordinance, and the tortured ends of her crew. She refused to be caught unawares ever again. It was a duty she made damn well sure to live up to.
Of course the fact she was currently listing to port proved that even the power of coffee, naval death coffee at that, was not enough to keep someone going indefinitely. She wasn't just a hull anymore with six boilers to run hot so long as she kept them fed. She tried to keep herself steady and maintain eye contact as her admiral gave her a look of open exasperation. He certainly couldn't fault her determination.
"And I'm going to tell you the same thing I tell you every time I see you like this: Get some God. Damn. Sleep." Set set the pen down and graced the battleship with a well practiced glare. He'd been doing that a lot more lately, he mused internally. "You have two options. One is to get no fewer than ten hours of shuteye of your own volition." He raised a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "The other is for Master Chief King to come in here and drag you off to ordinary where she can put you to sleep for no fewer than ten hours on her terms."
"Sir, Admiral..." There was a flash of betrayal amongst her tired visage as she weighed the options.
"You have your orders. You decide how they get executed."
Arizona looked down at the cluttered desk's surface as she contemplated her options. It grated against her nerves to have such a weakness as needing sleep so often. Sleep, real and genuine rest for the fleshly body. She knew she needed it. She knew her crew quite enjoyed it. But to now require it herself only made her think of her greatest failures. She clenched a gloved hand in irritation but said nothing, forcing the silence to stretch.
"Mutsu will be enlisted to help if need be. And I heard she just came back from the PX with a new supply of makeup." Her admiral's open threat cut through the rapidly growing gloom like the proverbial hot knife through butter. Her head snapped up, sending her reddish hair flailing about in surprise. "I don't need to be a genius to know why you hate sleep. And I'm not going to tell you to get over it or any of that bullshit. But I am going to tell you that you are no good to anybody if you are not at your finest. Am I clear, sailor?"
"...Crystal, sir." Already she could feel unease and the tightening of her heart as she decided there was no alternative but to obey. Not helping was the increasing list of her stance, now taking her to starboard rather than port. Maybe she had pushed herself too far this time. "Admiral, m-may I..?" She made a gesture towards the general direction of the couch nearby. It was perhaps the only genuinely comfortable piece of furniture in the office, but at the moment all she cared about was that it was a place she could lie down.
"Yes Arizona... Yes you may." He pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood from his seat and marched intently around his desk. She didn't need to ask. Especially not in the condition she was in. A condition he was partly responsible for. "Come on. Lay your ass down already."
He wrapped one arm around her shoulder and forcefully guided the exhausted battleship towards the couch. Before she could collapse upon the plush surface, the admiral stood her straight and went about removing the heavy gloves and long-coat. Arizona put up only a mild struggle against his efforts but more because she wished to disrobe under her own power than anything else.
"Don't let Mutsu or the destroyers..." Her mumbling was cut off by a massive yawn, "...do anything funny." Finally giving up, the earlier fire completely spent, she allowed herself to collapse onto the couch in a rather unladylike mess.
"Christ..." The admiral swore as he set about moving the now asleep woman into a position that could pass as comfortable. She was always like this. Always trying so damn hard. He draped the sizable longcoat over her as a blanket, pulling the collar up to her chin. Trying to pry her boots off would have been an exercise in futility, so he left them be. Ignoring the voice in the back of his head reminding him that those boots had probably been through all sorts of hell by now as he did so.
He sat on the edge of the couch and brushed a lock of coppery hair out of the sleeping Arizona's face. She was so still in her rest that the slow rise and fall of her chest was the only indication that she was asleep and not an elaborate mannequin.
"Would it have been so hard to just get some sleep and not have me strong-arm you?" He sighed and sat in relative silence for a good quarter hour.
The door to his office opened slowly.
"Did she finally doze off?" The whispered voice sounded louder than likely intended in the quiet office.
"Yeah. Took her long enough." He looked up towards the slowly opening door. Were it not for the efforts to avoid waking the snoozing battleship, the new arrival would probably have simply strolled right in. Plus the hinges were squeaky and he couldn't be assed to grease them up a bit. Maybe when they reached the level of cringe inducing.
"Well, we've both seen how stubborn she is~" She managed to end her words with an almost musical lilt to her voice as she finally entered the room and made her way over to the couch.
"Like you're any better, Mutsu?" He glowered half-heartedly.
"Oh my. What a terrible thing to say, Admiral. You've hurt me so!" She gave an exaggerated reaction of heartbreak, complete with crocodile tears. The only response she received was a resigned sigh complete with hanged head from her commanding officer. She giggled and moved to lean up against his desk. "We all have something painful in our hearts. I'm just... a little better at handling mine than she is."
"You at least get some damn sleep." He glanced at Arizona once more before standing slowly and returning to his desk, pointedly ignoring the teasing expression he was receiving from the Japanese battleship. She didn't have to say or do anything. All she had to do was give him that damn look to know she had enough ammunition from that little encounter alone to last her weeks. Sometimes he couldn't stand that look. The one with the half lidded eyes and catlike smile.
"My, oh my. A girl does need her beauty sleep after all." She shot her own glance over at Arizona before turning to face the admiral again. "I am a little jealous though. Ari's still so pretty despite how little care she seems to put in her appearance. A little bit of this. A little bit of that~"
"I think she'd be better off without the raccoon eyes. And no dolling her up while she out. I don't want fourteen inches of fiery death shoved up my ass." He pointed a finger at Mutsu, who looked like she was about to spout off some form of teasing nonsense. When she was in the mood, she was nigh unstoppable. "NO."
"You're no fun." She pouted and crossed her arms over her considerable bust, looking away as she did so.
"I'm a lot of things. Fun can be one of them. Just not when it involves angry battleships out to send me to kingdom come." He tapped his pen on the desk before continuing, his mood turning genuinely serious. "So, report?"
Mutsu read the change in mood perfectly and snapped to attention. Her salute was crisp as ever and posture ramrod straight. Some of the other girls on base, few as they were, could stand to learn a thing or two from her. If they could muster the same level of professionalism, he might be willing to put up with more than he did. Especially from a select few.
"Zero contacts, sir."
"It really pisses me off that I don't want to hear that." He grumbled before beginning to scribble down a myriad of notes on another frequently abused notepad.
"If it's any consolation, air patrols are being stepped up specifically because of our lack of contact." She'd seen more scout planes in the past twelve hours than she had seen in the past week. Either something was brewing that they weren't being made aware of, or people were getting anxious. She hoped it was the latter. Anxiety let her know that those in command weren't getting complacent with the unusual lull in Abyssal activity.
"It's not." The admiral tore the sheet of paper from the notepad and crumpled it irritably. It was probably the main reason he didn't favor more digital means of taking notes. Hitting delete wasn't as cathartic as juvenilely manhandling a piece of paper. "Any news of reinforcements?"
"Oh? Did Jintsuu not tell you? My my~" Mutsu dropped the professional demeanor with a catty grin, holding a gloved hand to her mouth in mock surprise. Her admiral's frown very nearly had her breaking down into a fit of giggles. "Rumor has it we may be having a new friend joining us. Someone from your navy as well. It looks like someone is getting the hang of whatever is needed to bring the United States into the fight again."
Arizona had been... a favor granted by fortune. No one was really clear as to what the magic words had been nor the pixie dust sprinkled on the ground. But regardless, she had heard a call and she had answered. Subsequent attempts had all failed.
The admiral did his best to hide the sudden knot in his stomach, ignoring the tidbit about his supposed secretary not keeping him on the up and up.
"...Who is it?"
The only sound in the room was the slight rustle of heavy fabric as Arizona turned in her sleep.
Mutsu smiled.
"I believe her name is... O'Bannon?"
U/N: On a very related note, this write-up has me totally rooting for Mutsu/Arizona (Aritsu) couple. They be cute, yo, and we all know Nagato is going to go for White.