Chapter 55: Swimming Wear!

Jersey's turbines were running a million revs a minute. Her boilers were screaming along well past the red line, and she could hear her heart pounding against the walls of her skull. She wanted to… she wanted to… Actually, she wasn't sure what the fuck she actually wanted to do. The one-two punch of Nagato and Musashi's swimwear had knocked her off any kind of consistent heading, and the rushing tide of emotion from her confession to the good Major had her teetering on the edge of capsizing. She was running around like her ass was on fire and she didn't have the first idea what she actually wanted.

She… she also had to get out of these stanky-ass clothes. Days at sea followed by hours of carrying a bleeding, crying destroyer on her hip had caked her outfit with blood and oil. Her scarf was ruined, and her shirt felt more like articulated armor than fabric.

She needed a fucking shower. A nice… warm shower where she could work past all the shit mucking up her ability to act like a fucking adult.

Jersey tore at her scarf as she stomped off towards the shower hall. Her fingers moved with ever quickening haste as she fumbled with the zipper on her vest. Her sneakers squeaked against the shower room tile as she stormed past the few lockers set up. She could practically taste the warm saltwater. She just had to… she had to-

Do…

Something.

Jersey blinked. Her hands were suddenly frozen to her half-off vest as she stared at the mind-breaking sight in front of her.

Akagi stood in the middle of the shower room. Her round face was all but glowing with that friendly half-smile that never totally left her face. More significant, however, was the red-accented midnight-blue swimsuit she was 'wearing.' As swimsuits go, it was on the conservative side. The one-piece hugged her carrierly curves without crossing the line between 'feminine and ladylike' and 'LOOK AT MAH MUSHIES!'

"Jersey-san!" Akagi's face beamed in a smile, and she offered the frozen battleship a polite bow. "Do you like it? Ryuujou helped me pick it out!"

Jersey gulped. It really was a very nice swimsuit. Hell, she might even call it beautiful.But there was one minor problem—it was clearly designed for someone of Ryuujou's proportions. Akagi's fleet-carrier hips strained at the snug material, to say nothing of her… stacked hanger decks. She looked less like she was wearing it and more like she'd been stuffed into it.

"Uh…" the battleship stated.

"It's my first time wearing something like this," said Akagi as she slowly turned in place to show off all those carrierly curves. "What do you think?"

"Uh…" the battleship explained.

Akagi's smile dimmed back to its usual low-idle.

"No, uh… fuck," Jersey couldn't pull her eyes away from the bulge around Akagi's… chest… area. That swimsuit was doing her mind no favors. She was stuck in a loop and she knew it. She just had to… somehow… force herself out of this death spiral. She needed a shock to the system.

So the battleship New Jersey, the most decorated battleship in history, smashed her face into a locker with as much strength as she could muster.

The bullheaded battleship's forehead carved a Jersey-shaped dent in the thin sheet metal with a metallic crash, and Akagi let out a tiny gasp as she darted to Jersey's side.

"Jersey?"

"'m awright," Jersey grunted. As ideas go… it wasn't in her top ten. Maybe her top fifteen though. At least she wasn't thinking about Akagi's stupid stacked-ass hangers all squished up against her arm like-

The battleship blinked, then she glanced at where Akagi's… where Akagi was standing.

Fuck.

Akagi didn't seem to notice, and she just stared back at the battleship with honest concern.

"American tradition," mumbled Jersey. "Look, you look fucking hot, but uh…" she nodded towards the door to the swimming pool-come-dockyard. "You mind giving a girl some privacy?"

"Oh" Akagi let go of her arm, and offered another little smile as she backed towards the door. "Of course."

"Thanks," said Jersey. While she still had at least some control over her body, the battleship used that inertia to start the process of getting naked. The one downside of her superb all-or-nothing armor was the extensive layers of clothing she wore over her vitals.

First her vest and long sleeved shirt came off. Then her shoes and baggy navy socks. Thenher tank-top, running shorts, and anti-fouling red compression shorts. Getting an Iowa-class naked took work.

Jersey was just reaching for the band of her sports bra—navy blue, of course—when a thought slid unbidden into her mind.

The last time she'd been healing up after a battle, she'd been so badly hurt she couldn't even raise her hands over her fucking head. Had to get little Sammy to help. It would've been adorable, especially with her innocent refusal to look at Jersey's naked body or evensay the word 'bra.'

Would've been. If Sammy was anyone else. Anyone else than the Destroyer Escort who fought like a battleship while Jersey fought like a fucking… dead manatee.

"FUCK!" Jersey barked at the top of her lungs, her fist wildly flinging though the air to cave in yet another locker. She felt the thin sheet steel crumple around her hand, wrapping it so snugly she had to yank her hand back out of its embrace.

The battleship tore at her clothes as she bolted for the shower. She didn't recall turning the water on, but she must've at some point. She felt the hot water pound at her naked skin like a dozen tiny fire hoses. Water streamed down her naked body in sheets, washing away the caked-on blood and masking the sound of her tears.

Jersey was… spent. Any semblance of control she had died when the first drops of water hit her skin. Her legs collapsed under her and Jersey fell against the shower floor in a heap. Her shoulder heaved as she sobbed into her hands. Her hair clung to her back and fell over her face like a curtain, and her quiet sobs vanished into the hammer of water on her skin.

—|—|—

The battleship didn't know how long she'd been crying when she felt… something. She something on her radar, a ping on her radar a… feeling in her gut.

"Hrm?" Jersey mumbled as she pulled her hands out of her face. Her eyes were bleary and borderline bloodshot, but she could just make out the shape of Kongou sitting quietly next to her.

The Japanese girl was still in her skimpy white bikini, but for once, Jersey didn't feel a shred of jealousy or… whatever the fuck she'd been feeling. It helped that the battleship wasn't bouncing around like a fucking pogo stick on crack.

In fact, she wasn't doing anything at all. She was just… standing a silent vigil over the crying American.

"Hey, Kongou?" Jersey's voice wasn't much above a raspy whisper as she glanced over at her Japanese counterpart.

"Dess?" Kongou's soft accent was as ambiguous as ever, but twice as warm. Just the sound of it made Jersey feel like someone was draping a blanket fresh out of the dryer around her.

"How uh…" Jersey sniffed, "How long've you been sitting there?"

"Not long."

Jersey blinked, then she slowly slumped over to rest her weight against Kongou's side. "Thanks."

Kongou brushed Jersey's sopping hair back with a quiet nod. "I know what it's like," she said.

"No," mumbled Jersey. "No you… you fucking don't."

Kongou took a breath, held it in, then slowly let it out again. Her features never wavered from the calm, almost motherly expression she wore as Jersey's tirade built up steam.

"Miss fucking perfect." Jersey screwed up her ruddy face, the bridge of her nose crinkling like an accordion as she seethed. "Tea-Tea-Teitoku-Dess! You don't know what-" The American's rage bubbled over into another wave of furious tears, "You were there! You were the first one back. You fucking answered the call before anyone knew to fucking ask. Do you-"

Jersey wiped at her eye with the back of her hand, "Do you know how many fucking months they spent trying to summon me? I- I-" The battleship's rage died in a patter of shower-water and tears. Her shoulders slumped and she fell back against Kongou, sobbing into her chest with what little energy she had left.

Kongou cradled the massive American as best she could, her steel-gray eyes heavy as she held Jersey close. "You stood by," her voice was calm and steady as a mountain, but warmer than the Pacific in summer, "While destroyers fought with valor and courage. I stood by…" she shivered, "powerless while my country raped whole cities."

Jersey sniffed, her ice-blue eyes slowly turning to meet Kongou's. "Wh-what?"

"Nanking," said Kongou. "Bataan." She spat each word out like it was a nail driven clear though her soul.

"That's…" Jersey bit the corner of her lip, "That wasn't your fault?"

"And Samar was?" said Kongou.

All Jersey could do was look away.

"You will never forgive yourself." Kongou's voice dropped to a quiet breath that barely carried over the patter of water. "Others might… but not you."

Jersey's head barely moved as she nodded.

"But," Kongou's whisper didn't get any louder, but it seemed to drive every other sound back with the mere passion behind her words, "That which is Just and Right can still prevail. There's an entire ocean out there thirsting for freedom." Kongou squeezed the American's shoulders ever so slightly, "And we'll need your firepower to save it."

Jersey glanced up, this time with a timid smile on her face. "Thanks."

Kongou nodded, her own face starting to glow with a smile of her own.

"Don't uh…" Jersey coughed, "Don't tell the others, yeah?"

"Of course not, Dess," said Kongou. "Now… maybe we should get you dressed?"