Editors Note: This snip takes place slightly in the future, when Nagato and Mutsu get back.
A Certain Lady Part 11
By Old Iron
"You appear to be in a good mood," remarked Battleship Nagato with a small measure of amusement. She entered the room provided to both herself and her sister and shut the door with a soft click.
"Is it that obvious?" Mutsu smiled as she rolled onto her back. The beds weren't the most comfortable things in the world, but she wouldn't complain. Just having a bed in and of itself was a luxury to enjoy given their situation.
"We may not have much opportunity to see one another in person, but I would have to be blind to miss it." Nagato took a seat on the bed next to Mutsu, smoothing her skirt out as she did so. "Does this have anything to do with your report to Admiral Richardson?"
Nagato reached up and removed her headgear with a well practiced motion. It never failed to feel unusual even after all this time. As a woman, it was a weight off her person and eased the burden placed upon her back ever so slightly. However as a ship, it felt as though she'd just removed a large section of her bridge and control systems. It was a bit of a relief either way.
"Mhm... Maybe." Mutsu wouldn't deny she was looking forward to delivering the report. It wouldn't have been too much trouble to borrow a secure means of communicating a report back to Sasebo. However she had gone the extra mile to commandeer a little personal time to go with it. She might own the entirety of DesDiv6 a favor, but it would be well worth it. The laptop on the nearby nightstand waited silently. "I'm really anxious to hear how everyone back home is doing. A little time with my Admiral is just a bonus."
"Hm... Then I suppose I should not disturb yo-!" Nagato made to stand with a small smile before she found herself pulled back onto the bed by a pair of slender, but tremendously powerful arms. It was a testament to the construction of the furniture that it did not buckle beneath the mass of two Nagato-class battleships.
Nagato also did not let out a squeak of surprise. Absolutely not.
"I'm not going to kick my oneesan out of the room just for this. We hardly see each other as is, so John can just put up with it~" She certainly enjoyed spending time with Admiral Richardson. And so very often did her boilers threaten to red-line when he was near. But she was a warship. Not a woman. Right? Sure, the lines blurred in a lot of confusing ways. However...
No. Better to not think about it right now. She wasn't Kongou. Though she wouldn't deny a little advice from the hyperactive Japanese Fast Battleship equivalent to Mary Poppins might go a long way.
"It would not be my place to intrude, but if you insist." Nagato adjusted herself into a more comfortable position on the bed as she spoke. The bed wasn't really designed for two people to relax on, but it wasn't bad. Certainly she missed her quarters back at Yokosuka and would prefer it any day of the week. However after the maelstrom the combined fleet had gone through, it was hardly something to complain about. "And Crowning-sensei is a literature professor, not a shaman."
"He's a magic man, so I think it still applies." Her mirthful tone was met with a flat look of barely suppressed resignation. She poked Nagato's cheek playfully "We run on sparkly magical shipgirl bullshit after all. We both have to help out Admirals deal with it, so we can hardly claim to be ignorant of it. The Crowning-sensei just happens to have become the foremost authority in the world on it. I think that qualifies at a magic man."
"Hmph. I would at least have preferred to not look like a fool in front of New Jersey. She took it in stride, but it was still embarrassing on my part." It certainly hadn't helped her mood given her magazine full of adorable destroyers had been destroyed via considerable water damage.
"Ah. But you were able to relax, weren't you?" Mutsu rolled over to give her elder sister a hug, the recipient reluctantly allowing the action with red tinged cheeks. "It got your mind off the battle. And what happened to Heermann. Those Americans are tough as can be, but that didn't make seeing her like that any easier..."
"True... It did take my mind off things." Nagato frowned as her thoughts drifted. Heermann had done her duty like any good destroyer. And she had done splendidly. Yet that kill order... It filled her with a kind of cold rage she'd not felt before. No matter how hard things had been. No matter how close to defeat they had been, nothing had come close to seeing that Fletcher with her legs so mauled. Come hell or high water, Battleship Nagato would not allow that to happen again.
Nagato turned her gaze to Mutsu and offered her a rare, easy smile. "But I wonder. Just who is supposed to be the older sister here?"
"Hmhm~ I have to pull double duty because I have such a difficult sister. Someone needs to look out for her. She looks after everyone else after all."
"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" A baritone, laced with rare humor cut into the relaxing mood.
Both battleships turned to look at the source and bore witness to Rear Admiral Richardson gazing at them from the laptop's screen. There was a lazy expression on his face, as if he wasn't really surprised at what he was seeing.
"J-John? How long have yo-?" There was that pesky red-line again.
"I'm debating whether or not to ask Admiral Williams if he can pass on the message that Professor Crowning is a 'Magic Man' as you put it." Mutsu had plenty to hold over his head. He felt absolutely no reservations in getting a little something of his own.
"Sir, I apologize for our current state. But I would ask that in the future you make your presence known." Nagato sat upright, with only minor difficulty owing to a blushing little sister hanging onto her, and saluted as best she was able.
"Don't worry about it. And I'll pipe up next time. Wasn't sure where to cut in before things got heavy." Richardson returned the salute easily. It was rare in happening, but speaking with Nagato was something he would describe as smooth. No bullshit. Just straight up and to the point. He appreciated that. Goto was a lucky man to have her around. Well, Goto was lucky in a lot of ways. Nagato was merely a single facet of that. "And Mutsu? Next time don't set up the connection and leave it there."
"Y-Yes sir." Well, at least he wasn't giving her too much grief. A miss like that wasn't something he'd let slide without a few good jabs. Fortunately her sister's presence acted as quite the deterrent. She cleared her throat and released Nagato from her embrace before moving the laptop onto the bed so all three of them could speak with each other more easily.
There was a pregnant pause before Richardson let out a tremendous sigh of exhaustion. He appeared to age no fewer than ten years before their eyes.
"Are you alright?" Mutsu's query was well laced with concern and even Nagato appeared to have a worried look in her eyes.
"I have one battleship having nightmares every time she tries to sleep for more than five minutes. Another with the biggest black eye I've ever seen. A submarine trying to teach lewdmarines how to submarine. An overworked light cruiser. And a daughter trying to get rid of battleship nightmares." Richardson rested his chin in the palm of one hand and snorted. "Want me to go on?"
"No, I think I get the picture." Mutsu sighed wearily and palmed her face. Really. How much more trouble could this man get into? No. She already knew the answer to that and had accepted it was simply part and parcel of his life.
"Admiral Richardson, pardon my intrusion, but you mentioned a submarine?" Nagato knew the postings of every sub Japan had enlisted. And unless Iku decided to go have fun at Sasebo, there were only two submarines making the Sasebo pens their home at the moment.
"Oh. Right. Lieutenant Junior Grade Albacore. She broke into the house, ran out on Jane's cooking, stole my pants, and then saved Arizona's stern from an intimate encounter with Davy Jones." He would have laughed at both battleships' flabbergasted expressions if he wasn't so worn out. Even Nagato had dropped the professional image at the utter madness he was spouting. "She likes gel pens. Really colo-"
"No no no! Back up!" Mutsu would have grabbed the laptop and shaken it, demanding answers from the man displayed on the inanimate object, had Nagato not restrained her. It wasn't often she had such outbursts. But they were usually well warranted. "Broke into the house? And what about Arizona? She fought!?"
"Mutsu, calm down. I assure you we'd be having a very different conversation if Arizona hadn't come home." Richardson cast a hard gaze through the LCD screen. "And her lack of operational discipline has already been brought to her attention by Hiei. She would have died out there if it hadn't been for Albacore. With no kills to her name and coming back with critical damage, Arizona had probably the worst debut in shipgirl history. It was her maiden battle too."
Nagato remained silent as she absorbed the information offered. No doubt she would have received the official report in some capacity down the line, but hearing about a battle in such a candid scenario was always somewhat unnerving.
"I... Oh my... How is she?" Mutsu forced herself to calm down. What was done was done and there was no use blowing her third turret sky high.
"She's in good shape all things considered. It's hard to tell she was even damaged at all with how she carries herself." Richardson leaned back in his chair and relaxed his expression. "Hiei came back with a few scratches and Albie didn't even chip her paint. Jintsuu was running damage control at home with Jane, so she didn't participate in the battle."
"That's a relief." She placed an hand to her breast and took a deep breath to drive off any remaining nerves. Everyone was home, safe and sound. That's what mattered most to her.
"Admiral, I think it would be best if Tenryuu was provided with an advance warning. It would rather she find out long in advance of any possible meeting." Nagato interrupted the drama with a little of her own. Even if the two ships never actually met, it was far better to be safe than sorry. The same would be done if Taihou ever graced the fleet with her presence.
"Tenryuu's under Goto's direct command, not mine. And you know your fleet a hell of a lot better than I do. If you think that's the best course of action then I'm not about to stop you." Richardson might offer a suggestion or two if the situation called for it. However if there was nothing to be gained, then he wasn't going to start sticking his fingers where they didn't belong. Goto's fleet was one such place.
"Thank you sir." Nagato cleared her throat and motioned to Mutsu, who was looking more and more like she wanted to say something. "But I think we have put off Mutsu's report long enough. She performed quite well against the Northern Princess if I might say. Perhaps even deserving of a... reward~"
Mutsu's head turned so quickly, one could almost hear a gearbox ping in agony. Her gaping expression and rapidly reddening cheeks a clear sign that she was having trouble processing what her stoic, all business and formality before the Admiralty sister had just said. What Battleship Nagato had just implied.
Even Richardson seemed taken aback for a moment before he gave up and began laughing like a madman.
"It is harder that I thought to pull that off."
"N-N-Nagato-nee!?"
Editors Note: And now... in honor of a recent passing.
Survivor's Return
The hour was late and a rare moment of peace had settled over the household.
It was not to last however.
The door to Admiral Richardson's room was nearly torn from its hinges as a figure wrapped in a nightgown all but charged through it.
Richardson had barely enough time to awaken before he found himself slammed against the mattress and backboard by a wailing redhead. He bit back a bark of pain as he was further pressed against far less pliable surfaces. It was only the anguished cries that stayed his tongue from demanding answers.
For the sight of Battleship Arizona wailing in naked grief was a sight that would transfix anyone.
He caught sight of the other residents making their way towards them and he carefully motioned for them to leave. They did so without hesitation or question, only motioning that they would be standing by if needed.
Even Jane obeyed with a teary salute as she clutched her stuffed ship tightly.
"H-He's dead, s-sir." Arizona's voice was raw and pained as he had ever heard it.
"Who is?"
"A-A member of m-m-my c-crew. H-His name w-was..." She buried her face against Richardson's chest as she said the sailor's name. She could not bring herself to say it to Richardson's face. Simply imagining that young man's face, forever stilled brought forth another sob. His name was beyond painful.
It was the first crewman she had lost since she had returned.
And it felt as though she was losing each and every one of them all over again...
It didn't matter how she knew, only that she knew he had passed. Perhaps it was because she lived as a grave to the fallen? Or perhaps it was the manner in which she was remembered. All that mattered was that she knew. And the pain was unlike anything she had felt since that wretched December morn.
Richardson could not find the words. What could he say? Empty condolences? A prayer? How did someone offer comfort and solace to someone stricken in such a unique and personal way? All he could do was embrace the weeping battleship and rock her back and forth.
He would not need to think beyond that.
For the clicking of boots drew his attention to the now empty surface of his desk. Upon it stood eight diminutive figures. Each dressed sharply in the garb of United States Navy Color Guard. It might have looked silly had the situation been anything less dire.
They stood in two columns, their colors displayed proudly and brilliantly unlike anything he had ever seen before.
Arizona turned to see the scene at Richardson's motioning and she slowly released her iron grasp upon him. With slow, almost shuddering movements, she stood to face the guard. Her tear stained face was a mess, marred with sleep and snot. The very image of loss.
Then, upon the floor of the room, dozens. Nay. Hundreds of small figures appeared. Each dressed in their finest.
And in that moment, no one was in that room anymore.
They were in port.
And standing atop the deck of USS Arizona.
Fairies no more, but rather the crews they once were, now filled the deck to bursting. Every soul who had been laid to rest in Arizona's ruin now stood before her once more. And there were sad smiles gracing each and every one of them.
Arizona herself could not move, so stricken with emotion as she was.
Before anyone could say or do anything, one member of the guard brought a bugle to his lips and began playing. It was a song known to all, and so all paid proper respects to the haunting tune. As the bugler played, the guard stood aside to reveal a gangplank.
At the foot of the plank was a single man. A young man. One who had made the number remaining seven and then six with his passing.
Arizona was ushered forward, somehow attired in full officer's dress in the moment.
The young man raised his hand to his brow in salute.
"Permission to come aboard ma'am."
Arizona returned the salute as she wept.
"Permission granted, sailor. Welcome aboard."
And then the moment was over and all returned to the home of Admiral Richardson. Standing at his desk, holding a tiny saluting fairy, was Battleship Arizona.
"Welcome aboard..."